By now, the neighbors know my daughter’s dog by the name Shut Up Paco. The little yapper barks at everything — not even a mixture of vinegar and water can repel the disturbance. If anything, he seems to enjoy the flavor. The shock collar was next, but he powered right through that too. My other granddog is equally memorable — she sheds relentlessly and suffers from a severe case of small dog syndrome. She huge but thinks she’s a lap dog.
.
My grandchildren were each given an allowance of five dollars for the Dollar Store — silly string, candy, soda pop, and makeup for Maddie. At the counter, Jacob decided to put on a scene. First came the look — that never works. Then the verbal warning. Then the counting to three. And finally, two firm swats on the backside. It is not that I am old school, but it is the only thing that works on Jacob. Go ahead — call the police, videotape it, and shame the grandma. It is still going to happen. As we were leaving the store, my voice echoed all the way to the car: NO ONE GETS A THING FOR 30 MINUTES! AND IF YOU TALK BACK, ANOTHER 10 MINUTES WILL BE ADDED!
Soon all was forgiven, and they swam for a short while. It was only 6:30 by the time they were done, so Netflix came to the rescue. While I took the dogs outside for a potty break, Maddie came running out with the announcement that Lucas had puked all over his tablet and pajamas. After he got cleaned up, he asked for more candy. William’s behavior, meanwhile, was positively saintly — and he was not sick. Very suspicious.
Maddie polished my nails in two different colors — three coats plus a top coat. My nails took so long to dry that they stuck to everything. I kept getting notifications from Instagram, only to discover that Maddie had posted a selfie.
By ten o’clock I was more than ready for them to go to bed — oh no, not these kids. As if it were New Year’s Eve, they held out for the stroke of midnight. Jacob did eventually fall asleep and went limp like a motionless marionette — all forty pounds of him had to be carried upstairs. We said our prayers, and finally, I was praising God for much-needed rest.
Where was Mike during all of this? Mike always comes in for the cleanup — and like the fourth batter up, he hits a grand slam. Mike cooks, washes, vacuums, and yells — a lot. Together, our little family is safe in the arms of two screaming, temperamental grandparents. We adore them endlessly, but we mostly love where they came from.
“Grandchildren are the crown of the aged, and the glory of children is their fathers.” Proverbs 17:6
Two jeeps were needed to transport our group on a five-hour journey to the Tibet border for a three-day excursion into the Himalayan Mountains, where we would minister to more than 25 pastors and their families. We paid drivers to take us up one way and trusted God that vehicles and drivers would be available for the return — no Hertz reservations, just faith.
Our driver spoke no English, and though he was a seasoned coachman, he thought nothing of passing buses on dangerous curves — buses packed with passengers, goats, and chickens, every inch of space used, including the roof-mounted luggage racks carrying additional travelers. Along the way, we passed countless natural waterfalls, rushing rivers, and clusters of homes built just feet from the main road.
Lynda and Patrice
Our jeep
Zero Star Hotel
Brian, our host pastor, had informed us that we would be staying in a Zero Star Hotel. My first thought: kind of like camping? Once we arrived and settled in, Brian was proven right — no towels, no toilet paper, a bucket-flush latrine, windows without screens, and — best of all — a padlock on the outside of our door. We were also provided one pair of communal flip-flops to share, a concession to the perpetually wet bathroom floors. As night fell, the temperature dropped sharply; we slept in turtlenecks and pulled our heavy coats over us as extra blankets.
The Bhotekoshi River, which had been a steady companion by day, shifted its tune after dark — less ambient backdrop, more air conditioner in desperate need of repair. But the morning more than made up for it. Perfectly pitched birdsong, accompanied by what can only be described as nature’s own guitars, serenaded us with melodies that belong on no streaming service — only on God’s playlist.
Joanne, our director, informed us that we would be treating the pastors and their families to every meal. When I asked what that would cost, the answer came without hesitation: “Don’t worry about it — God will provide.” We took up an offering among our own group and covered every meal. It would not be the last lesson in humility on this journey.
A Detour and a Lesson
Before our meetings, my roommate Alida and I decided to take in the scenery. For a small stipend, we visited the Tatopani Hot Springs — walking along the roaring Bhotekoshi River, snapping photos, and losing ourselves in a paradise that awakened nearly every sense. Meanwhile, back at the Zero Star Hotel, the rest of the team was in prayer, preparing for the meetings ahead.
As Alida and I made our way back, I cracked the door open to find the entire group staring at us — wide-eyed and waiting for an explanation. Conviction set in immediately. I apologized for letting worldly distractions pull me away, a stern reprimand followed, and I quietly ordered myself a larger slice of humble pie for lunch.
Unlikely Friendships, Lasting Bonds
It was here that I met people who would become lifelong friends: our interpreter Bigyang, and Pastor Indra and his wife Jyoti Shrestha. Pastor Indra and Jyoti oversee an orphanage in the region and shepherd a local church as well. Bigyang is a pastor who travels village to village carrying the Good News to some of the most remote communities imaginable — and remote is an understatement. On foot, with minimal provisions, he and his team traverse this majestic mountain range with the faithfulness of a postman: rain or shine, they deliver.
Bhotehoshi River
Sessions of Grace and a Painful Return
The sessions were powerful — encouragement and faith poured forth in abundance, with each person receiving prayer. These were precious people who wanted us to stay longer. We promised to return soon.
Many living near the Tibet border lost loved ones in the devastating 7.9 earthquake of April 2015. Entire villages were destroyed by boulders and mudslides — and what the great tremor did not annihilate, the Bhotekoshi River returned to finish this past summer. Some of these people have no means to relocate to Kathmandu and continue to bear the consequences of life in a paradoxical paradise.
Among those displaced: Pastor Indra and Jyoti lost both their home and their orphanage, and were forced to move to Kathmandu, where they are still working to rebuild a semblance of normal life.
The road we once traveled is now nearly impassable. It is on foot that these faithful pastors make their way up into the mountains — because God’s work does not wait. The river claimed most of their electrical infrastructure, and generators are now essential for survival. If this stirs something in your heart and you would like to donate, please reach out directly.
Getting there required leaving the road entirely. No pavement. No signs. Just dust, determination, and the sense that something worth finding was waiting at the end of the trail.
A Community Held Together by Stones and Tires
More than 1,000 families call this place home. The most polluted river in the region winds around their dwellings like a slow, indifferent boundary. Rooftops of corrugated metal are pinned down by large rocks and discarded tires — nothing engineered, everything improvised. No preparation could have readied the eyes for poverty like this. And the dust, thicker here than anywhere else because the roads are entirely unpaved, leaves one quietly wondering what monsoon season must do to what little these families have.
The Church That Shame Could Not Touch
The Slum Church — that is its real name, worn without apology — stands in the middle of it all, and it is immaculate. Laminate flooring. Ceiling fans turning slowly overhead. A space that says: this house belongs to God, and God deserves our best.
Fourteen Voices, One Thunder
Then the choir began. Fourteen voices. And when the opening notes of How Great Thou Art rose — in Nepali, from lungs that know what it costs to praise — something broke open in the room. Tears came without warning, and no one moved to stop them. These were not tears of sorrow. They were tears of recognition — the soul acknowledging that it was standing on holy ground.
The Poorest Rich People in the World
These people have little to nothing by the world’s measure. And yet they are among the most authentic examples of what it means to bear the name Christian — humble, Spirit-filled, anointed, and radiant with a joy the world did not give them and cannot take away.
A Suitcase Left Behind
Before leaving, a suitcase full of medicine was placed in their hands. A small thing, perhaps. But love always finds a way to be tangible. Then the next assignment called, and the road continued.
Slum Church neighborhood
Slum Church Choir
The President
An Unexpected Summons
Eighteen in a Van — Again
An invitation arrived from the President of Nepal. And so, naturally, there were now eighteen of us in the van. Some things about this journey defied explanation from the beginning — and the seating arrangements were never going to be one of them.
The City Would Not Cooperate
Traffic held the group for nearly two hours. By the time the van pressed through to the Palace, word had come: the President had been called into an emergency meeting. The appointment would have to wait — and so the group waited, as pilgrims often do, without certainty about what comes next.
A Palace of Quiet Dignity
The Palace was heavily guarded and modest in scale — not the grandeur one might expect from a seat of government. But the garden surrounding it was another matter entirely. Neat rows of flowers stood in careful formation, as if welcoming every visitor with silent ceremony.
A Garden That Spoke Without Words
The festoon of blooms filled the autumn air with something close to sacred — orange, magenta, and gold rising together in colors that seemed almost intentional, perfectly matched to the Palace walls, as though the earth itself had dressed for the occasion.
Welcomed by the Secretary
The group was received by Naraine Koivola, Secretary to the President and Administrator of Foreign Affairs — a man whose warmth made the formality of the setting feel immediately secondary. He escorted everyone upstairs to a private meeting room on the second floor.
A Ceiling Worth Looking Up
The room itself was a quiet wonder. Above the gathering, bright, vibrant orange flowers adorned the ceiling alongside what appeared to be real gold — an understated elegance that spoke of a culture unafraid to make beauty part of its official life.
Tea, Cookies, and an Hour Well Spent
Nepali tea arrived, along with delicate cookies, and what followed was not a meeting so much as a conversation. For over an hour, stories flowed between the group and this kind gentleman — an exchange that no agenda could have planned and no protocol could have produced.
A Prayer and a Parting Gift
Before leaving, a prayer was offered — and with it, a box of See’s Candy for the President. A small, sweet gesture from one world to another, carried across the distance with the simplicity that only genuine affection can manage.
The Day Was Not Finished
The van pulled away and the day pressed on — because on a journey like this, divine appointments do not arrive one at a time. They line up. They wait their turn. And they do not run out.
President’s Palace
From Palace to Precinct
Where Favor Followed Every Door
Another Office, Another Welcome
From the Palace to the office of the Chief of Police — and the spirit of the day carried right through the threshold. Rabindra Pratap Shah received the group with equal cordiality, a man of authority whose manner carried none of its weight against hospitality.
Called Away, Yet Still Present
As with the President before him, duty intervened. Chief Shah was summoned into a meeting before the visit could unfold fully. And yet, before excusing himself, he paused — and graciously received prayer from the team. In that small moment, something larger was happening than any scheduled appointment could have held.
Favor That Cannot Be Scheduled
God showed great favor that day. Not in the meetings that were completed, but in the doors that opened at all — in the secretaries who escorted, the officials who paused, the prayers offered in rooms built for policy and power. Grace had moved through every threshold.
The Quiet Ride Home
On the ride back to the hotel, no one needed to say much. The encounters were held quietly, close to the chest, each person turning them over in their own way. And the glory — without fanfare, without ceremony — was given back to the One who had arranged every detail of the day.
