Date Rape: The Robber of My Soul ~ Heart of Tears

(Note: This is part 1 of a series.) I’d been praying about writing this, but the topic truly doesn’t fit the tone of Rhapsody en Route. The goal of this blog is authenticity. Real and raw. No veneers allowed. But nowadays, “authenticity” seems like a buzz word. Almost too cliché, and clichés are like shoes…

Don’t Give Me Maui or Disneyland. Give Me This…

Last week, my husband and I drove over the glorious Cascade Highway, to a small city with wooden sidewalks. But that ‘s not the punch line here. The dreamiest gift on our vacation wasn’t a big, splashy location like Disneyland. I’ve certainly experienced some so-called “magnificent” experiences like living on Maui. I swam in a school of fish…

Basking in the Loveliness of Gratitude or the Sea of Self-Pity?

Has the remote of your soul ever been stuck on the self-pity channel? Mine has. Seattle sun shimmers like a jewel in my grandmother’s jewelry box. The fingerprints of God saturates the glorious Northwest landscape, as Mount Rainier stands tall. She bows in the symphony of splendor as the trees march up her sides into the blue…

Status Seeking and All that Pizazz

Your car. Your clothes. Your home. Your job title. Your handbag, if you’re a woman. Your selfies, which – face it – aren’t usually “authentic-ies.” You create them to evoke an impression. Those things speak volumes about you. Or do they? You’re human. You form impressions about people based on their “stuff.” And they create…

The Joke is Always on Me

Deep in the depths of my soul, I have no doubt God has my back. But every so often, I experience a day when I quiver inside in fear. A circumstance floats on top, casting a shadow of my firm belief that some circumstance will work out. Today was one of those days. We certainly live…

Then a Tear Kissed My Pillow

Last night, I sat in my hello kitty sweats and surfed Fakebook (that’s not a typo). The TV news played in the background. “Friends” on the social media site posted pictures and stories and funnies, and I scrolled down to peer into their lives. Then the TV screen caught my eye. The faces of Syrian children, parents, grandmothers…