Knocking Down the Wall of Racism, One Brick at a Time

Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.              Romans 12:21

One of the things I miss about my dad is his self-deprecating sense of humor, which would come out at random times and have the whole room laughing. Or just the passenger in his car.

At the end of a brief visit during my freshman year in college, Dad was driving me back to the airport. We came to an intersection where we had to stop but the cross traffic did not. It was a busy time of day, and cars sped by, with seemingly no one willing to sacrifice a few seconds to let us on. After about five stressful minutes, Dad muttered under his breath, “Come on, somebody …!”

Just then, a black man slowed his car down, smiled at Dad, and motioned to him to go ahead. Dad smiled back, waved a “thank you,” and pulled out. After a moment of silent smirking on my part, I heard Dad mutter in mock disgust, “How’d’ya like that? Forty years of prejudice, shot to hell.”

If my father were alive today, he would be over 100 years old. He grew up in a time and way of life that might be called “racist” by today’s standards, but I have never known a sweeter man. Dad was one of three boys, raised on an “farm” – a large lot with a pond, some chickens, a vegetable garden, and an occasional random creature, such as an orphaned baby bear and an alligator, which wouldn’t have been unusual in Florida, but this was Missouri. (Don’t ask.)

My grandparents had “hired help,” which I’ve come to understand were more like members of the family. My grandmother would discuss dinner options with her cook, who told her it didn’t matter how many chickens they prepared, the boys would eat everything in sight anyway. According to family lore, one day after a rainstorm, the chickens lay around looking as though they had all drowned. The cook told Granny that they weren’t dead, admonishing her to hang them on the clothes line by their feet. Granny followed her advice. Sure enough, after dangling in the sunshine for a while, the chickens dried off, perked up, and began flapping and protesting.

A generation later, my parents had a maid named Vester, who worked for my mom from the time I was about five. (I remember hiding from my sister’s wrath behind Vester’s skirt, and her ordering Susie to be nice to her little sister.)

Vester was the first one in the family to know that Marty and I were engaged. As it was a week before Susie’s wedding, after the initial silent squeals and hugs, she advised me regarding the best time to tell my stressed-out parents. Vester traveled all the way from St. Louis to Michigan to attend the wedding – not as a caterer, but as an honored guest. I will never forget how beautiful she looked in her royal blue kaftan.

Four years later Vester was the first to know that Joanna was on the way, not because I told her, but because she’d had a dream about a child in the woods. When she had asked who it was, a Voice had told her, That’s Ann’s little girl. 

Although Vester was nearly as old as my father, after my mother’s death she kept “working for him” (taking care of him). And Dad took care of her, in the only way he was able in those last years, by giving gifts to her and her family. When he could no longer drive, he gave his practically-new luxury car to her grandson, who was a chauffeur. Vester stood in Dad’s room at the assisted living facility and gave a tearful speech about not waiting until someone’s funeral to give them flowers. “You gave me my flowers today.”

After Dad had passed away, my sister and I kept in touch with Vester and her daughters during her last days. I remember visiting her in her home and seeing many familiar things that I recognized as having belonged to my mother, and even my grandmother. (Vester had more heirlooms than we did!) Her devotion to our family was so profound that my youngest daughter Kelly and I traveled from Michigan to attend her funeral at a church we had never been to, in a part of St. Louis we had never seen, full of people we had never met. Vester’s daughters excitedly introduced us to almost everyone there, and almost everyone we met fairly gushed about how much Vester loved our family. There was no talk of race or economic status, only talk of God, grace, and the devotion of people who genuinely loved one another.

As an adult, I have enjoyed deep friendships with people of different ages, races, religious traditions, nationalities, and backgrounds. I have learned a lot from them all, including that practically every individual I encounter has the potential of becoming a close friend. It keeps life interesting.

I was sharing the anecdote about the intersection with another blogger, and it occurred to me that the black man on the busy street had the answer to racism – kindness! He wasn’t glaring at Dad, pointing a finger and calling him a racist. He was treating him as he himself wanted to be treated. And while admittedly there are people and situations that are too far gone to respond to kindness, attacking a racist is not going to change him, either. Hateful behavior only drives prejudices deeper. (Why do we even have to state this obvious truth?)

What would happen if we treated everyone with kindness and respect, even those we perceive aren’t worthy of it? (Are we worthy?) Who knows, we may see more people’s attitudes change for the better – more “years of prejudice, shot to hell.”

Prayer: Lord, open our hearts and minds to Your image in every person we encounter, and help us to resemble You by loving them as You do, in Your name. Amen.

The Ballad of Narnia

Teach then to your children, talking about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                    Deuteronomy 11:19

One of the perks of being retired is being able to spend an extended time in our family summer home, up north and away from the oppressive heat. Of course, this is the season where everyone here has family visiting from the hotter climates, and we’re no exception. Children and grandchildren have filled out house with fun and shrieks and giggles and sand and damp towels. Evenings are different from evenings a generation ago. We have a TV now, and they have their devices, and when we’re all gathered inside for the evening, it’s hard to peel the kids away from the screens. But I have fond memories of nights when their parents were little, snuggled up together in bed or in front of the fireplace, reading our summer books – mainly The Chronicles of Narnia. I think it was about five years in a row we read them each summer. There are seven books in the series, so that was enough to fill our summer evenings with fauns, centaurs, unicorns, dwarfs, Marshwiggles, Dufflepuds, and of course, the wonderful talking Lion, Aslan, who ruled over it all.

I also remember singing to my children as they were going to sleep, and I would often try out my original songs on them. I guess it was inevitable that I write a song about Narnia.

The Ballad of Narnia

Peer inside the wardrobe door, and see what you will find;                                                                 If it be that Aslan calls, you’ll leave this world behind                                                                        And step inside another realm, envisioned in a dream,                                                                    Where fantasies are very real, but not quite what they seem.

Narnia, fair Narnia, O where do you come from?                                                                                   Spoken from the Lion’s mouth before time had begun?                                                                         Narnia, dear Narnia, you seem to call to me                                                                                            To come and be the true creation I was meant to be.

Gaze into the winter skies and see the wonders there;                                                                           The Narnian stars are huge in size, their beauty bright and rare.                                                         And when upon the peaceful snow they shine their friendly light,                                                     Tiny hoof prints tell of fauns who danced one moonlit night.

Hear a tale of long ago, when evil ruled the land,                                                                                        When all of Narnia lay in snow beneath a witch’s hand,                                                                         How children from another realm arrived amid the strife.                                                               The lion Alslan saved the kingdom, though it cost his life!

Narnia, dear Narnia! He must have loved you so,                                                                                          To make himself the victim of more hate than we could know;                                                       Narnia, dear Narnia, now was it worth the pain?                                                                                     He must have known he’d given more than he could ever gain.

Gather up your courage, for there’s danger in the air,                                                                                And all who love the Lion must for battle now prepare;                                                                     It is a war of wrong or right – there is no neutral ground –                                                               And every good and honest creature now is honor-bound.

Take up your sword, dear child, for it is time for us to fight                                                                     The evil forces lurking in the shadows of the night;                                                                               But have no fear – the Lion himself is fighting at your side,                                                             With golden mane a-flying, and his great jaws open wide!

Narnia, dear Narnia! This war’s already won!                                                                                           For Aslan’s royal face is shining like the noonday sun.                                                                        Narnia, dear Narnia! He came to set you free!                                                                                    He’s given death the final blow, and you the victory!

You must go now, back into the world where you belong,                                                                        But Narnia lives within your heart; she’s an eternal song.                                                                 And Aslan will be with you, though he will not look the same,                                                       For here we call Him “Jesus,”                                                                                                                                                               and He’s calling you, by name.*

Prayer: Lord Jesus – Lion of Judah, our Savior – we marvel at Your love for us, that You would give Your life as a ransom for us. However the story is told, it’s still the greatest story of all. Thank You for the privilege of telling the story to our children, and our children’s children. May it always be in our hearts, in every generation.

*”The Ballad of Narnia” copyright 1991 Ann Aschauer


Being the Answer

Therefore encourage one another and build each other up, just as in fact you are doing.                                                                                                                                                                                                             I Thessalonians 5:11

Sunday afternoon I was at the local yacht club, where the biggest gathering of the year was taking place. The annual brunch was over (I had been at church, so missed that part.), and the races were taking place.

I should probably explain that by “yacht club,” I mean a fenced-in yard with a dock and a building smaller than most houses. There are two restrooms, a mini-kitchen, and a sort of “all-purpose room” with a bookshelf, ping-pong table, and glass case full of t-shirts, caps, and mugs with the yacht club insignia. On the counter there’s usually a pot of coffee. We used to have a phone, but sometimes strangers would call saying “We’re coming into your area Thursday night and need to reserve a slip for our yacht. We’d also like to make reservations for dinner.” Whoever answered the phone (usually a kid in swim trunks) would say, “Um … we don’t have ‘slips,’ but we’re having a pot luck this Saturday …”

There’s no yacht club phone any more. Just a Facebook page.

Sunday I saw people there that I had never met and some I knew well. Others I had met but hadn’t seen in ten or eleven months, maybe a decade, with their kids who had shot up and were suddenly full grown people. They were gathered to race their Sunfish – little sailboats that hold one or two sailors. The boats were crowded together, bobbing over what used to be beach (lots of rain this year), and the race course was on the dry erase board. The races had been postponed the day before due to the weather – or the anticipation of bad weather – but the day had turned out fine after all. (Hey, this is Michigan.) So Sunday there were five races rather than two.

“Wow, that’s a lot of races,” I said to a woman. She looked vaguely familiar, but if we had met, it had been years. After a few more words of small talk I asked her name. She reminded me, and we proceeded to “catch up.” As is often the case with my generation of women, we landed on the topic of grandchildren and the joys of being “Nana,” or “Grammy,” or Meemaw,” or whatever a creative or verbally challenged grandchild comes up with.

At one point we were talking about movies the kids love, and as I told her how my daughter Kelly used to love “Snow White,” I told her about the day I came into the room on my way to fold laundry just in time to see the Prince carrying Snow White off to his castle to be his bride, how the castle was in the sky, and how I almost dropped my basket of clothes as I realized that the whole Gospel was in that story. (For details, see “Snow White: A Parable,” posted September 14, 2018.) I wasn’t sure why I was sharing this, as I didn’t know if she even knew what I meant by “gospel,” but suddenly I saw her face light up.

What followed was for me a little foretaste of heaven, sharing stories with a fellow believer. While the people around us were focused on sails, wind direction, fouls, protests, and who would be first to cross the finish line, we were telling each other about answered prayers and the fun of living a life waiting to see what God does next. It was such an unexpected encounter in that environment that we were laughing at things that would probably not seem funny to an outsider, but the pleasure of having found a “sister” was just too much to contain.

I’m not sure how long we had been talking when my new friend began to tell me something, hesitated, then apparently decided to go ahead and tell me.

“This morning I asked God if He would send me someone, a friend, that would encourage me. – And here you are! We looked at each other, and again broke into happy laughter. “Yes, He does that, doesn’t He?” We were both encouraged.

I proceeded to tell her about the time I was at college doing a short term in a school where I’d arrived knowing no one. During my “devotions” I had asked God to show me who the Christians were so I could have some friendships that would encourage me. Immediately, I’d heard a knock at the door, and a beautiful young lady, wearing a cross and carrying Bible had said sheepishly, “This may sound weird, but would you like to have devotions with me?” She had been missing her roommate, who had always had morning devotions with her, and who’d been away for short term. As this young lady had been walking down the hall in the dorm, telling the Lord her feelings, she’d sensed Him saying, Knock on that door, so she’d obeyed.

We laughed again, marveling at the many ways God fills our lives with serendipity.

Sometimes God answers our prayers with No, sometimes with Not now, sometimes with a resounding “YES!” (I’m guessing those are the times when we’re finally asking for the right things.)  Sometimes our prayers are answered so quickly our heads are spinning.

Sometimes we get to see the answers to our prayers, and sometimes we get to be the answer to someone else’s prayers. I’m not sure which is more fun.

Prayer: Jesus, thank You for blessing us with brothers and sisters to encourage, and who encourage us. Although You have risen and are seated at the right hand of the Father, You are still with us. – We are the Body of Christ. Help us to live out this beautiful reality, in Your name, Amen.

Satan’s Worst Nightmare Excerpt #3: Small Beginnings

“Do not despise these small beginnings, for the Lord rejoices to see the work begin.”                                                                                                                                                                                                                                   Zechariah  4:10 NLT


                                          “You Get What You Pay for.”

The “set” we used for the first year of the drama is not exactly something we look back on with pride. The Tuckers’ yard had a playhouse that we turned into the “gates of hell” without too much work. We decided the swing set in front of the playhouse would be the frame for the Empty Tomb. We took old sheets I had collected from a local nursing home, draped them over the bars, painted them with various shades of gray, and tried to make the Tuckers’ round picnic table look like the stone by rolling it on its side and wrapping it with the remainder of the sheets and spraying it with the last of the spray paint. (I’m afraid the only realistic thing about it was how heavy it was when the angel rolled it away.)

Since we were without a sound system, not to mention any performers who could project, especially outside, it was clearly going to be hard to get the point across. Our “sound system” was a boom box, and the volume of the “boom” depended largely on how windy it was on any given rehearsal day. Since most of the people involved in the drama were our children and some of their friends, getting them to listen carefully for their cues, helping them to remember what to do, and holding their attention was … “somewhat challenging…”

Who am I kidding? It was like herding squirrels.

                                                     Professional Help

We needed a mature actor to play the part of the devil, someone who could lip-sync “No One Believes in Me Anymore” and remember numerous stage directions. It also had to be someone who could tolerate working with young kids. Fortunately, my daughter Joanna’s father-in-law Tom was a very sweet guy as well as a seasoned actor with the local theater group, and he agreed to help us out. Surrounded by grade school kids, he resembled one of those charismatic adults that kids love to hang out with, which can be either endearing or creepy, depending upon who that person turns out to be. When it’s the devil, the image made quite a statement.

                                            Deficiencies and Distractions

Rehearsals were sort of hit and miss. Since the children couldn’t drive themselves to the Tuckers’, they were dependent upon their parents, and so were we. So, attendance was irregular, at best.

Then there was the general environment of the rehearsals. October in Michigan isn’t exactly predictable, and young children are predictably unfocused. After I had finally succeeded in getting and holding their attention, a raindrop or two would elicit shrieks, and immediately several of them would want to run inside.

Then there were the bells.

Across the street from the Tuckers was a Lutheran church with bells that chimed every fifteen minutes and played a minute or two of hymns every hour on the hour. These bells drowned out my puny boom box and were enough to distract the children yet again. I remember wondering more than once what we had been thinking, and whose crazy idea was this anyway?

                                          Meanwhile, In the Dining Room…

While I was working with the kids, Kelly Tucker gathered a group of women around her dining room table, where they filled the gallon Zip-loc bags with tracts and treats, and loaded hundreds of the bags into big plastic bins. The fellowship was sweet, I’m told. This was the group of women who had been meeting at least once a week to pray for months before the outreach. I would have loved to join them. But I was outside squirrel-herding, trying to shout over the church bells and children’s chatter, and praying the rain would hold off just one more hour…

Prayer: LORD, thank You that You are a God of small beginnings, second chances, and the grace to bless our efforts, however feeble. Thank You for keeping us humble by reminding us that we can do nothing on our own, and that today’s “disasters” are tomorrow’s memories that we will retell and laugh about again and again. Keep us in the center of Your will today, whatever that may look like. We love You, and we trust You. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

SWN’s First Endorsement!

Therefore encourage one another and build each other up, just as in fact you are doing.                                                                                                                                                                                                     I Thessalonians 5:11

My fellow writer, Kimberly Bowman, author of Undercover Bag Lady, has read my manuscript for Satan’s Worst Nightmare and had this to say about it:

“Ann Aschauer turns the tables on what many consider the darkest night of the year. Through her unwavering faith, passionate creativity, and contagious enthusiasm, she unveils what bold determination can accomplish in the face of blunt opposition. Bravo!”

Thanks, Kim!

To read my review of Kim’s excellent book, see my post from June 28 – my most responded-to post to date.

Prayer: Lord, thank You for inspiring us to communicate Your glorious truth in fresh, new, creative ways. Thank You for the fellowship and encouragement of other believers. May we continually be encouraging one another to do greater and greater things for Your kingdom, through Jesus Christ. Amen

Satan’s Worst Nightmare preview #2: A Different Kind of Yard Display

“Resist the devil …” James 4:7

(Another excerpt from my new book, “Satan’s Worst Nightmare”)

                                      Middle-Class Mission Field

The Tucker’s house, unlike ours, was located on a very busy street in a neighborhood of closely spaced houses and lots of children. Kelly described it as a “thoroughfare” for trick-or-treaters. Scores, if not hundreds, of young people and their parents traipsed down the sidewalks each Halloween Night, presenting a formidable mission field. But somehow, we felt that merely giving out tracts along with the candy was not enough to make the kind of bold statement we wanted to make that year.

With my theater background that included a semester or two of set design, I began envisioning how we might decorate the Tuckers’ yard in a way that was distinctly different from the others. As it was already October, we didn’t have much time, but never underestimate the creative energy of two unorthodox sisters on a mission.

Since yards full of tombstones seemed to be the thing, and since people stopped to read the clever sayings on them, we decided to provide a little surprise for those who stopped to read ours. We selected about a dozen verses from the Bible for our display, each following the theme of Resurrection and Jesus’ triumph over death and hell.

He lives!

He is risen!

Oh death, where is your victory?

I know that my Redeemer lives.

“‘I am the Resurrection and the Life.’ – Jesus”

“‘I was dead and am now alive, and I hold the keys to death and hell.’ – Jesus”

Kelly enjoyed sitting in her living room, sipping her morning coffee and watching the people walking their dogs or on their way to work or school. Glancing at the tombstones, they sometimes did a double-take, sometimes smiled, sometimes stopped to read every one, not realizing that on the other side of the window someone was praying for them. Although we didn’t have a lot of time to prepare that first year, ideas were brewing for subsequent years, and the multimedia outreach was to get bigger and more complex every year. But for that first year the yard itself was the show.


A decoration that was popular that year was the form of a witch on a broom with arms and legs splayed out, painfully straddling a tree or telephone pole after a head-on collision. Kelly relished the idea of poking fun at these allegedly “powerful” people.

I wanted to take it a step further. Why not portray the Devil himself getting tripped up? We made a kind of scarecrow, attached a devil mask to it, and laid it sprawled in the yard, its foot hung up on the tombstone it had apparently just tripped over – the tombstone that declared “Every knee shall bow,” with its counterpart next to it, adding, “…and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord.

                                         Getting the Word Out

We decided to pass out tracts Halloween Night, not just one tract per person, but several. We ordered some comic book-style tracts that we thought were clever and appealing, and Kelly put them in gallon-sized Zip-loc bags, along with a large bag of Skittles. (No puny little treats from the Christians – and definitely no tracts in lieu of treats!) We decided to dress our darling daughters as angels and let them give out the bags, and the little girls were excited about being able to dress up. (The Tucker girls with their round faces, curls, and big eyes already resembled the cherubs in a Raphael painting.)

The local paper got wind of the “different” yard and sent a reporter and photographer to take pictures of the girls in costume, the Devil’s mishap, and the Good News tombstones. The resulting picture and article made it into several papers throughout Michigan, as I learned from friends as far west as Manistee and as far north as Traverse City.

                                                 The Big Night

Halloween Night we played festive worship music from a boom box on the porch. I had decided that the girls shouldn’t be the only ones having fun, and I donned some angel garb myself, grabbed a couple of swords from the Shakespeare unit I’d been teaching my English class, and stood guard at the front of the yard holding out the swords in the form of a Cross. People got into debates about whether I was real or a mannequin, and I had some fun winking at some of them when the others weren’t looking. My arms went to sleep a few times, but the entertainment value was well worth it.

                                         Another Little Angel

At one point in the evening I noticed a little girl of about five who was walking among the tombstones, asking her father, “What does this one say, Daddy?” Her father didn’t seem nearly as enthralled as she was, and I could hear him dropping hints that there were other houses to hit up for treats. At one point, he said bluntly, “Come on honey, we need to go.” He clearly didn’t want to read any more tombstones.

At that point I stopped playing “Guess Whether I’m a Mannequin,” and offered to walk around with her, and her dad consented. As I read the scriptures to the wide-eyed little lady, I talked to her about what the verses meant. When her father finally insisted that she go visit some more houses, she still seemed reluctant to leave. And swords or no swords, this angel’s heart was melting.

                                       Throwing Down the Gauntlet

All evening a steady stream of people stopped at the Tuckers’ to collect treats, read the Scriptures on the tombstones, smile at the cute little angels, take our literature, and of course, laugh at the devil.

We should have known we were in for some battles.

Prayer: Lord, You have given us the greatest news ever and called us to be Your messengers, to the ends of the earth. Send us where You want us to go, inspire us, and strengthen us, in Jesus’ name. Amen

Sunshine Blogger Award (and More Information About Me than You Ever Wanted)

Honor one another above yourselves.     –  Romans 12:10b

A huge thank you to Perth Girl of “The F Word – Faith, Family, and Food” for nominating me for the Sunshine Blogger Award. I have enjoyed her posts ever since I recently discovered this blog. If you haven’t already, check it out at:

The Sunshine Blogger Award is peer recognition for bloggers who inspire, are creative and spread positivity.

Rules for the Award
Thank the blogger who nominated you and link back to their blog.
Answer the 11 questions you’ve been asked.
Nominate 11 bloggers and ask them 11 questions.
Inform your nominees through commenting on their post.
Display the rules and the Sunshine Blogger Award logo on your post.

Perth Girl’s questions for Me:

1. Describe yourself in 3 words? If I’m feeling good about myself, “spontaneous, creative, and unique.” If I’m not feeling good about myself, “impulsive, disorganized, and weird.”

2. One interesting thing about you that people don’t know? – (Well, they’ll know now, won’t they? 😉 ) I had a bodyguard for about a week when my kids were little. (Long story.)

3. If you could leave one thing behind that people will remember you by, what would that be? The older I get, the more I realize my life is “ALL JESUS.” As Casting Crowns says, “I don’t care if they remember me, only Jesus.” (“Only Jesus”

But we all do leave something behind, and I’m blessed that I can say that all three of my children love Jesus, married godly believers, and (the two that have kids so far) are raising five more people to be citizens of His kingdom, too! They are my legacy.

4. Name one book you have read more than once? Seeking Allah, Finding Jesus (The testimony of Nabeel Qureshi). I have read it once and listened to the audio at least twice. Through it I came to love and admire a family that were devout Muslims. I enjoyed reading details of debates Nabeel got into with his two best college friends – his Christian roommate and a Buddhist. This book is engaging, enlightening, convicting, and intellectually stimulating.

(Sorry, you said “name,” not “write a review, but you know me … )

5. Have you ever conquered a fear? No, but Jesus has. Without Him I’d still be a sniveling coward in all areas! I used to get nervous about speaking to large groups of people, and even more when there’s a camera running and I know I’m going to be on TV! But Jesus said, “Go and tell,” so what could I do? Fortunately, “He doesn’t call the qualified, He qualifies the called.”

6. How many languages can you speak and if ok, please mention them too? I speak English. That may seem like an obvious answer, but it seems these days most Americans can’t speak it properly. ( … said the English teacher …) I also speak some French, although not as fluently as when I was teaching it to kids.

7. What has been the most unexpected thing you have come across in your blogging journey? When I started blogging, I had no idea that my followers would be from all over. I was delighted when I realized they were in faraway parts of the U.S., but then when they showed up from Canada, the UK, Africa, Asia, Australia … I was very surprised – and thrilled.

8. Funniest place you have fallen asleep? Dentist’s office, getting root canal. (Not because the dentist put me out, just because Jesus was there giving me peace. Thank You, Lord!)

9. Road trip or Train trip? I don’t mind road trips, especially when my husband drives, and I love going with my sister on “adventures” in her RV. I haven’t taken many train trips, but I think I’d love it, especially if there’s a dining car, lounge, etc. and I can meet new and interesting people.  😉

10. Favourite Tv show, ever? “America’s Got Talent,” because it includes all kinds of performances, not just singing or dancing. I love watching unknown people perform, especially when they come out looking like “losers,” awkward and unlikely to succeed, then blow the audience away with their talent. I get vicarious pleasure in seeing them vindicated. It also inspires me not to be so quick to judge people and write them off.

11. Would you rather visit the past or the future of your own life? Future, because I already know what happened in the past. I’m excited to see what God still has for me!

I follow quite a few blogs, many of which are great. If I didn’t mention some here, it’s because I have nominated them before, and/or because they have made it known that they no longer participate in these awards. (It IS time consuming… but kinda fun. 🙂 )

Here are my nominees:

  1. Perth Girl – //
  2. See, there’s this thing called biology…  –
  3. Linda Lee/@Lady Quixote – @ladyquixotelindalee
  4. The Domain for Truth –
  5. Loved by the King of kings – @iwillnotbemoved
  6. Theology of a Newfoundland Housewife – sallyball8323
  7. Bill Sweeney – @billsweeney60
  8. fuelfortheraceblog – @fuelfortherace
  9. Eva Ngelista – @witnessforjesuschrist
  10. floatinggold – @floatinggold

My questions for you:

  1. If you were only allowed one last chance to post a message on your blog, what would it be about?
  2. If you had an hour and the freedom to do anything at all, what would you spend the next hour doing?
  3. Besides where you’re living now, where would you like to live?
  4. What is your pet peeve?
  5. Who was your favorite teacher, and why?
  6. What quality sets you apart from the crowd more than any other?
  7. What was the first “secret” you remember sharing, and did the other person keep that secret?
  8. Which day of your life, if any, would you like to relive, if you could?
  9. What was the most painful experience you’ve ever had that turned out to be a good thing in the long run?
  10. What is the #1 thing on your bucket list?
  11. Who is your role model?

I’m looking forward to learning more about you!