Hope for a weary world….
Three years ago this month, this child from my parents homeland stole my heart.
Her family lived in the nipa huts of my family’s ancestry
Homes made of woven palm leaves and bamboo poles suspended above the ground
These homes are meant to protect from flooding when the rains come.
These huts could not survive the three typhoons that slammed into the Philippine islands last month. Three typhoons. The virus. Lives devastated.
Dreamer....one man's legacy...one family's purpose...
Today my father would have been 98 years old.At his bedside in 1998, twenty years ago, he quietly revealed to my older sister his story of approaching the Golden Gate Bridge on the deck of a ship, she barely old enough to stand at his side as they passed under the monument that signified his entry into America.“We will have a good life here,” he whispered into her ear.