Dear Friends from around the world.
Hi, I want a share my memorable experience from last year –December 07. Life is all about friends and family, living in hope and love. Its about surviving the storms with courage and strength. Here is my story of a real wintry Ice Storm.
Everyone who lived in Tulsa last year in December remembers the Ice Storm. How can anyone forget it, right?
This is one of the very first articles I had ever written. It was for a friend of mine. But then, I sent the article and it was published in the Kalamazoo gazette in April. It is of course about a woman, or call her an angel – some one who helped me one day in the middle of a busy road out of nowhere.
It was a usual fall morning in Kalamazoo, a small city in Michigan. The clouds were dark and the wind was freezing and it was going to snow soon. The first snow of the season always brought a lot of excitement. I have lived almost a year now in this small university town but still everything was new around me.
“Wait until you go to Malawi”, my friend Anne told me. “My mom is going to make sure you have a real village experience”. We stood talking outside of my medical school campus, on the eve of my departure for this southeast African country, the homeland of my friend. We had spent many nights talking about her childhood in Africa, as she spoke of her family of 8 living in two rooms at the back of a church. She watched many of her school friends die of cholera, and when times were hard she ate the same porridge for every meal. She spent most of her life in a village, which she said is the heart of Africa, where most of the living and suffering occurs. more…
Hello Friends, I am Arleen, a nurse, wife and mom of 2 wonderful children. I have served as a nurse in many countries like India, Saudi Arabia, Israel and UK. I haven been a nurse all my life. That was my first and the only profession I was always interested in.
Years ago I got an opportunity to work in a hospital in SA when my 1st child was three years old. It was a tough decision but because my husband is extremely supportive and committed to our family we both mutually decided to taken up this offer. more…
My dad was originally from Oaxaca, a graduated architect. My mom, who was a fashion designer, was originally from Mexico City, and met my dad when he was in college. They got married before he got his thesis done, at the same time he was working, so they hardly spent any time together. For two years, my parents lived in Mexico City, in a small apartment. Mom had two miscarriages before she had my brother Sergio, me and later my youngest brother Jose Luis.
It is my joy & privilege to write to you all through this media. I personally want to take this opportunity to thank all those who have contributed on the site either by reading or writing or sharing with others. It will soon be a month that the site is launched and we have got some good response. Thanks to you all, it is only possible through your support. We have some wonderful stories coming our way very soon.
Today I want to share to you about a woman who is so insignificant, poor, may be dead or alive, I have no idea but has a lasting impression on my memory and a clear imprint on my heart.
When I was a fourth year medical student, I traveled to Bangalore in southern India to rotate at a Baptist hospital there. I had been fascinated by India for awhile, hearing my Indian roommate speak Malayalam, sampling their exciting curry dishes, and especially hearing about the work of God amongst the poor and disregarded people of the slums. I had the opportunity to meet Violet, a cheerful middle aged lady who served as a chaplain for the hospital patients. She inspired me with many stories of people turning to Christ and even receiving healing after prayer. more…
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