I’ve been hurting for days. Not just physically, but internally. My body’s been in pain—back, neck, head. The diabetes situation is still something I’m battling through. My numbers are coming down, my vision is starting to improve. Fatigue is still there. There’s brain fog at times. I’m lightheaded. I’m trying to stabilize. But it’s not just that. There’s something else that’s been sitting on me since a few days ago. A situation with someone I love. Something that’s been happening for a long time. Something I’ve spoken on before that never really got addressed. I’ve been tolerating, pushing through, letting it go. But it didn’t go anywhere. It stayed. And recently, it came out. We were just walking, enjoying the neighborhood, getting some cardio in, and it came up again. This time, I didn’t hold it in. I didn’t yell. But I was direct. Firm. I said what I needed to say. It disrupted a good moment. I know that. And I’ve been sitting with that since. I wok...

  It feels like death has been circling me. Not in one moment. Not in one event. Just… around. — My mother. Gone. — As of late, there have been deaths in my house. I’m sure some were outdoor pets. But they were still lives. They were still present. And now they’re not. They are still missed. The mangy stray cat I was trying to save. Even the stray. Gone. — And then there was me. Three weeks ago, I believe I almost died. I didn’t. But that night didn’t leave me the same. Something opened. I reached into parts of myself I hadn’t gone into before. Not my thoughts. Not just emotion. Something deeper. I faced things I hadn’t confronted. I forgave things I didn’t even realize I was still holding on to. And I accepted something I hadn’t fully accepted before. My own death. Not in theory. Not as an idea. But as something real. Something possible. Something that could happen. And in doing that, I also accepted others. Including my...

L ittle Paw never asked for much. Not a home. Not a name. Not a guarantee. Just a little space in the world to exist… and maybe a moment of peace between storms. He moved quietly through the yard like he understood something the rest of us forget—that survival isn’t loud. It’s patient. It’s alert. It’s instinct sharpened by hunger, by cold, by nights that don’t care whether you make it to morning or not. There was something about him though. Not just another passing presence. He stayed close enough to be seen, but far enough to stay safe. That balance… that distance… that was his language. He was the runt of the litter. The only one that made it from Conina’s first litter. Small. Timid. Careful. But still here. And that alone says something about him. He was a sweet, kind-hearted cat. And despite everything he had to go through, he loved to be loved. He was a little spoiled too… and that was a good thing. I wanted him to be. Not long ago, he had a heal...

I was on the causeway between Portland and Corpus, heading toward the Harbor Bridge. A car cut in front of me. I was already at a steady speed on cruise control, and he jumped in front and slowed everything down. It annoyed me. I moved over to pass him, just trying to get back to the pace I was already at. As I passed, I looked over and saw him on his phone, talking, completely unaware. That made it worse. I got back into my lane, set the cruise control again, and tried to let it go. But then he came up again and tried to pass me—doing the same thing. That’s when I noticed a police officer nearby. And for a second, I thought: if he keeps this up, he’s going to get pulled over. But then something shifted. That wasn’t for me to worry about. And more than that… I realized I shouldn’t have been upset in the first place. There was no reason for it. I could have just adjusted. No frustration. No reaction. No words under my breath....

I first established care with my doctor after my diabetes episode and blindness back in 2024. My mother was with me that day, helping me as she always did, standing by my side through any and everything. She immediately liked him. We discussed Dr. Alton Perry, one of my best friends and a family friend we both knew, with whom we shared a deep connection. He passed away several years ago, but his presence, guidance, and the memories he left behind continue to influence and inspire us. She declared, “We’re like family.” We all hugged, and the moment felt warm, personal, and reassuring — a connection that put me at ease. Near the end of my first return visit, almost two weeks after my mom passed, life had been incredibly difficult. I was struggling with grief, anxiety, and depression, and he prescribed medication to help support me through my turmoil. My eyes landed on his shirt: a Hawaiian pattern with hula girls and palm trees — my mom! The shirt remind...

  UNMUTE AUDIO       As I write this, my vision is blurry. My head is painfully throbbing and foggy. My eyes ache, my face aches, and my body feels weak. I came to a place where I had to ask myself: am I praying for healing, or am I praying to leave this world? It wasn’t a simple question. Raymond, a fellow member of my congregation who has been instrumental in supporting my father and me, reminded me that we are to pray for what is on our hearts. Some people receive healing in this life; some only after transition. Either way, prayer is valid. I prayed for healing. I’m holding on to faith, knowing that something is working even while I’m in this state. I claim my healing, and I rebuke and bind any powers of darkness trying to interfere. Faith Like Habakkuk Habakkuk questioned God about suffering and injustice. He didn’t understand why things were happening the way they were. Yet the book ends with a powerful declara...

B efore this week there was already history behind what was happening. In 2024 I was given corticosteroids for an ear infection that turned into a throat infection. While I was working my vision suddenly became blurry and my kidneys started aching. Not long after that I lost my sight. Corticosteroids were the cause. I was blind for three months. During that time I began drinking an elixir mixture and doing light cardio on a stationary cycle. Slowly my vision returned. Later that year my mother passed away on December 7, 2024. Her loss changed the rhythm of life for my father and me. Grief became part of the atmosphere of our home. One of the people who helped us through that grief was my mother’s close friend Leilani. She stayed present with my father and me during that time. Then in January of 2026, Leilani passed away as well. Two losses close together reshaped a lot inside me. Not long before the events of this week I had been sick again and was pre...

The vision of the Four Horsemen has captured the imagination of readers, theologians, and artists for centuries. Each rider appears in sequence as the Lamb opens the seals, revealing forces that have shaped the course of human history: conquest, war, famine, and death. “I looked, and there before me was a pale horse… Its rider was named Death… and they were given power over a fourth of the earth to kill by sword, famine, plague, and by the wild beasts of the earth.” — Revelation 6:8 The Pattern of Collapse When viewed together, the riders appear in a sequence that mirrors how societies often destabilize. First comes conquest. Expansion, domination, and the rise of power reshape political landscapes as nations and empires attempt to extend their influence. Conquest rarely occurs peacefully. Tension builds, and that tension often erupts into conflict. The red horse follows. Peace is removed from the earth, and violence spreads between peoples and nations. ...

The fourth seal opens, and the final rider appears. Unlike the previous horsemen, whose identities must be interpreted through symbolism, the last rider is identified directly. Death. “I looked, and there before me was a pale horse… its rider was called Death, and the grave followed close behind.” — Revelation 6:7–8 The horse itself is described as pale, though the word used in the original Greek carries a deeper meaning. The Greek term chloros can describe a sickly green or corpse-like color — the color of decay and lifelessness. This immediately separates the final rider from the others. The white horse represented conquest. The red horse represented war. The black horse symbolized scarcity and famine. But the pale horse represents something more final. Death itself. Another striking detail appears in the passage. Death does not ride alone. The text says that Hades follows close behind him. In biblical language, Hades refers to the ...

The vision continues as the Lamb opens the third seal in the Book of Revelation. As with the previous seals, one of the living creatures calls out, and another rider appears—this time mounted on a black horse. “I looked, and there before me was a black horse! Its rider was holding a pair of scales in his hand…” — Revelation 6:5–6 Description of the Rider Unlike the first two riders, the third horseman carries no weapon. Instead, he holds a pair of scales—an object associated with trade, measurement, and the weighing of goods. In the ancient world, scales were used in marketplaces to measure grain and determine value. Their presence in the vision suggests that survival itself is being calculated. The color of the horse also carries symbolic meaning. Black has historically been associated with famine, hardship, and mourning. The dark horse reinforces the sense that society has entered a period of difficulty. Details and Symbolism The passage describing the b...