Until then, every time I saw her, she gave me the most quizzical look—as though I were visiting from another planet. Even before she was speaking, her expression said it all: “Who is this guy, and why is he here?”

But that day, at her new house, we went fishing together in the backyard. She had a rod. There was no bait on it.

Later we headed to the driveway, where I helped her with her scooter.

We went up the hill. We went down the hill. She said, “Again!”

We went up the hill. We went down the hill. “Again!”

We went up the hill. We went down the hill.

I lost track of how many times we did this.

Somewhere in the middle of it all, I realized she wasn’t looking at me like a stranger anymore.

“Because children have abounding vitality, because they are in spirit fierce and free, therefore they want things repeated and unchanged. They always say, ‘Do it again’; and the grown-up person does it again until he is nearly dead. For grown-up people are not strong enough to exult in monotony. But perhaps God is strong enough to exult in monotony. It is possible that God says every morning, ‘Do it again’ to the sun; and every evening, ‘Do it again’ to the moon. It may not be automatic necessity that makes all daisies alike; it may be that God makes every daisy separately, but has never got tired of making them. It may be that He has the eternal appetite of infancy; for we have sinned and grown old, and our Father is younger than we.”

—G. K. Chesterton, Orthodoxy

The post The Day We Became Friends first appeared on Leaving a Mark.

Four days later, Józefa died. She was 36 years old.

Six weeks later, the surviving twin, Ewa, died too.

Years before, when Józefa’s son Anthony was born, his uncle by marriage, Jan Ziółkowski, appeared in the record as a witness.

When Józefa died, Jan’s name appeared again on the record of her death.

And six weeks later, when baby Ewa died, Jan was there again.

Anthony grew up and eventually left Poland for America.

Years later, he had a daughter named Genevieve, born in Salem, Massachusetts.

On September 10, 1924, Genevieve died of acute encephalitis. She was five years old.

Anthony had been only five when he lost his mother and infant twin sisters. Now he had lost his own five-year-old daughter, Genevieve.

Exactly 22 years later, on September 10, 1946, Genevieve’s older sister Mary gave birth to a son.

Jan’s granddaughter Sophie — known as Zosia — became one of Mary’s close friends.

Today, September 10, 2026, marks 102 years since Genevieve died — and the 80th birthday of the baby born on that same date 22 years later.

Happy birthday, Uncle Charlie.

The post September 10 first appeared on Leaving a Mark.

I collected all the things people wrote about my father after he passed. Then, I put them into one of those word counters. The word most used to describe my father was “kind”. Next, was “wonderful”. After that came “gentle”, “sweet”, and “loving”. Then, “amazing”, “great”, and “special”. Then “caring”, “thoughtful” and “Godly”.

People wrote about his radiant smile. One person said he was one of the best persons they’d ever met. Another said he was one of the nicest persons they’d encountered. One person commented there weren’t enough superlatives to describe him. Someone else wrote “I love that man. I feel like your dad touched everyone he met.” Someone else similarly said in reference to my father, “Some people touch your life in a way you can’t describe.”

There are so many qualities that defined him. Humble, kind, genuine. As my mother put it, “He was the best. He was the best of the best.” The one that I always came back to was good. He was a good man. I used to tell him that all the time. I would say, “you are a good guy, Dad.” He used to respond to me with the words of Jesus from Mark 10:18: “Why do you call me good? No one is good except God alone.”

After awhile I realized he would never accept me calling him good. So, to save all that trouble, I just started calling him “OK”. I would say to him, “You’re an OK guy, Dad.” And he was much more comfortable with that.

And I had to really think – what can I say to my father that he will accept? I knew he wouldn’t accept it if I called him the best father in the world. So, instead I would tell him, “You’re the best father I’ve ever had.” He was OK with that too.

I used to ask him too, “Are you my buddy?” After answering “yes” to this about a thousand times a week, he finally said one time: “Of course I’m your buddy. You don’t even have to ask.” So, from then on I started saying to him, “You’re my buddy dad.” And he was my buddy. My father, mother and I did everything together. One day toward the end, I saw a quote from Morrie Schwartz that said, “Death ends a life, not a relationship. All the love you created is still there.” So then, I changed it to, “You will always be my buddy, Dad.” I had no idea he would pass away so shortly afterward.

Despite all his wonderful qualities, I’m not sure he had even the faintest clue how much he meant to those he came in contact with. The scripture that comes to my mind when I think about him is Isaiah 66:2 which says, “This is the one I esteem: he who is humble and contrite in spirit, who trembles at My word.” As Jesus put it, “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” Despite his abundance of wonderful qualities, he knew that he was a sinner in need of a savior. And he was so thankful for God’s mercy and grace.

There is a book by Eugene Peterson titled “A Long Obedience in the Same Direction.” I’d give you some quotes from the book, but I can’t because I haven’t read it. But the title was the very definition of my father. From the time I was a baby to the time my father passed away, he was a model of faithful devotion. When I was a toddler, I used to come downstairs early and find him and sit on his lap as he read the Bible. When I was old and somehow managed to get up early I’d find him reading his Bible. He was always hungry for God.

Something I wrote about my father fifteen years ago had this paragraph: “You taught me so many things, but the best thing you did for me is model what it means to love God, how to seek Him, what it means to be desperate for Him, and how to persevere when nothing goes right. Simple, pure, and genuine faith and desire for your King. I picture you like Jacob, worshiping God in his old age as he leaned on the top of his staff (Genesis 47:31). Loving God with all your strength, right to the very end.

The last couple years it was one thing after another in terms of his mind and body breaking down. He did everything in his power to get well. Despite all the suffering he went through, he never changed. Through it all he was same kind, gentle, loving person. He was faithful and he was grateful. He worshipped God while using his cane. He worshiped God while using his walker. He worshipped God when he could hardly move in his hospital bed. He praised the Lord even though he no longer knew what day, month or year it was or the steps to putting on a T-shirt. He listened to the worship song we put in the slideshow and would weep because he was so thankful for what God had done for him.

There is a quote by German theologian Meister Eckhart that says, “God is at home. We are in the far country.” And the Apostle Paul said, “I would prefer to be away from the body and at home with the Lord.” My father was good, he was humble and he was faithful. He had my deepest love, admiration and affection. He meant the world to me and was the best man I’ve ever known. I am going to miss him more than I could ever express. But now he is home.

The post Tribute to my Father first appeared on Leaving a Mark.

I will now give you some diet advice free of charge. But first, a quick story.

It used to be that I got a Butter Crunch ice cream on the way to the gym every other week or so. Then, it became once or twice a week. Then, three or four times a week. Then, pretty much every day.

Spending so much time at the ice cream stand gave me the opportunity to study the menu closely each time as I waited for my ice cream. After many days, I realized that they sell other things besides Butter Crunch ice cream. I know what you’re thinking right now: “What could be better than Butter Crunch ice cream?” Well, after examining the menu I came to see that they also sell Butter Crunch ice cream sundaes!

The next day, rather than getting my usual Butter Crunch ice cream, I leveled up to the new pinnacle of ice cream existence – the Butter Crunch ice cream sundae. On top of the butter candy ice cream, there was whipped cream, butterscotch, and butterfingers. Butter heaven!

I once again know what you’re thinking right now: “This story is a lot longer than you promised and I’m leaving posthaste for my buttery treat.” Not so fast. It was simply…not good. There was so much butterscotch, I wanted to puke. It was even more sugary tasting than that Coldstone Creamery place. In short, I hated it and haven’t had Butter Crunch ice cream since.

As Nolan Ryan once remarked, “”Every hitter likes fastballs just like everybody likes ice cream. But you don’t like it when someone’s stuffing it into you by the gallon.” What is it you really like? Pizza? Have 10 pizzas tonight! I promise you won’t want pizza for awhile! You like Chinese food? Order a dozen Pu-Pu Platters and go to town! You want some chocolate malt balls? Buy all the boxes of malt balls in the store and eat them in one sitting. You’ll want to spend some time away from those Whoppers afterward – I promise! And, if your problem is Butter Crunch ice cream – just go to the Butter Crunch ice cream sundae. Why? Because too much of a good thing can be absolutely disgusting. 

The post Butter Crunch Ice Cream first appeared on Leaving a Mark.

His major contribution to the world was not a set of aphorisms. He was born in a turdy barn, grew up in a dirty world, got baptized in a muddy river. He put his hands on the oozing wounds of lepers, he let whores brush his hair and soldiers pull it out. He went to dinner with dirtbags, both religious and irreligious. His closest friends were a collection of crude fishermen and cultural traitors. He felt the spittle of the Pharisees on his face and the metal hooks of the jailer’s whip in the flesh of his back. He got sweaty and dirty and bloody – and he took all of the sin and mess of the world onto himself, onto the cross to which he was nailed naked.

In his work and in his words, Jesus is making promises to the beaten, the torn, the broken, the depressed, the desperate, the poor, the orphan, the abandoned, the cheated, the betrayed, the accused, the left-behind.

The post Fixing the World first appeared on Leaving a Mark.

This kid buried his head on my shoulder.
He was fast asleep. On the jet airplane.
I wanted to say, “Hey brother, your father is on the other side.”
But little Mexican boy was much too young to be my brother.
Still, I wanted to say “brother”, as if I were Hulk Hogan
Exclaiming to Mean Gene, “Let me tell you something brother”
As if I were a 10 year old.
Remembering when the Hulkster used to do away with the bad guys
An old person, but kid at the same time
Maybe “brother” wasn’t far off
One young in age. Another young in spirit
Both seeking rest
Dreaming of pile drivers
On this incredibly uncomfortable airplane

The post To the Kid in Seat 39B first appeared on Leaving a Mark.

The last time somebody stared at me was about a week ago. It was an African American girl sitting with her mother. We were on the train. I think she was about a year and a half old. Possibly younger. Somehow, I caught her attention. Whatever her age, she was young enough to not feel the least bit self-conscious about fixing her gaze on me the entire trip. Since she was so obviously staring at me, I plainly stared right back at her. She gave me a searching look. As she tried to figure me out, I tried to figure her out. What was she curious about? What caught her attention? What was it about me that so entertaining?

I wonder what will happen to that little girl. Perhaps she will become a famous author or athlete or musician. Maybe she will own a restaurant like Princess Tiana. Maybe she will one day become the President of the United States. Yes, maybe the future President engaged me in a stare-down on a train in Boston.

* * *

I remember being a little boy in the first grade. At the time I attended a private school, which offered education up to the sixth grade.

I remember staring at the older kids. They were so big. I wondered if I would become big like that one day. The idea of getting big seemed a million years away – like it would never happen.

Another thing I found curious was the older girls. One in particular caught my eye. I was fascinated. I hadn’t seen anything so pretty.

One day, I was excused from class in order to use the bathroom. As I walked the halls, I noticed a classroom full of older kids. I put my face against the transparent square glass panel and peered in. It just so happened to be the classroom that the pretty girl was sitting in.

Needless to say, I was awestruck. I must’ve been staring at the pretty girl for some time, because I clearly caught her attention. This took me by complete surprise, as I was certain that I was invisible to the upperclassmen and especially the pretty girl. What did they care about a little kid?

The reason I know with certainty that I caught this girl’s attention is that she looked me right in the eye. Then, she scrunched up her face and stuck out her tongue right at me.

I was elated. I was not invisible after all. The pretty girl knew that I existed.

* * *

Perhaps I should have referred to that pretty girl by her name. I can’t do that because I don’t remember what it was. I do, however, have one other memory of her, a few years later.

We had just got out of church on a Sunday afternoon. Rather than the usual ham salad sandwiches in the parking lot of Alexander’s Supermarket, we were treated to D’Anegelos. I can’t express how much I loved D’Angelos. The diced pickles. The turkey smothered in mayo. The bread. The oil on top. I was in heaven.

It just so happened that the pretty girl was working at the store. My parents recognized her. They said hello. She spoke with them for a little bit. Unlike our previous encounter with the face and tongue, she was shy. It was likely the first job she had ever held. I think she was nervous.

I don’t recall ever saying a word to this girl. I just listened as she spoke with my parents. The conversation wasn’t long, but long enough for her to once again recognize my presence on earth.

I couldn’t help but stare at her again. This time, I also gave her a hint of a smile.

The post Pardon the Way that I Stare first appeared on Leaving a Mark.

“Here is the world. Beautiful and terrible things will happen. Don’t be afraid.”

One of my co-workers had a baby today. A beautiful baby of course – aren’t they all? A few hours later, a different co-worker received a call that his father had died. His dad was thought to be healthy. The death was a complete surprise.

Then, there is me. An outside observer in all of this. Happy for one. Sad for the other. Unsure how to be both at the same time.

I remember reading about stages of grief. We are shocked. We get angry at others. The anger turns on ourselves. We become confused. We question. What just happened? Why? What could I have done differently? How do I make sense of this tragedy? How do I move forward in life with this giant hole in my heart?

I think about the death more than the birth. I can’t imagine facing what is ahead for my co-worker. Mostly, I am afraid for myself. Scared to death of losing those I love.

I listen to the radio. Songs about new love and all the hope that goes along with it. Songs about being tossed aside like an old shoe. Songs that reflect and ask questions. Can I sail through the changing ocean tides? Can I handle the seasons of my life? I don’t know.

I’m told to rejoice with those who rejoice and suffer with those who suffer. I offer my words of congratulations. I offer my words of regret. I go back to my business of getting the day’s work done, wondering what difference any of those empty words of mine really made anyway.

I think about Elton John singing about the circle of life and the spooky quote from Superman Returns about the son becoming the father and the father becoming the son. I recall Emily from the play Our Town desperately wanting to go back in time to relive her 12th birthday until finding it much too painful and concluding that life should be valued “every, every minute”. With all the death and regret and pain involved, I’m not sure I like this circle of life stuff very much.

I think about times when I’ve messed up by not telling people how much I cared about them before it was too late and how much I never want that to happen again. I think about others who were kind to me and how much that meant to me and how much I want to be kind to them in return. I think about the gift of life and how easy it is to take it for granted.

I think about the baby. Like her, I wonder what in the world is going on. The world which manages to be so beautiful and terrifying and wonderful and broken at the same time. I think about the oft repeated statement in the Bible to “not be afraid” and how I’m never alone – even though it often seems that way. I remember that those who mourn are blessed because they will be comforted. I think about Easter and Jesus defeating death and promising to make all things new. Even me.

The post The Circle of Life first appeared on Leaving a Mark.

Editors Note: It’s time for a special guest post! Friend of blog (FROB) Danielle sent this princess fashion clip to me (via Pinterest!) with the following comment:

Well, that took an unexpected turn… This is stupid though, Mulan is way too girly, Ariel is supposed to wear pink. Pocahontas looks like a fashion model… I could go on…

Having enjoyed her perspective on this and other matters, I extended an invitation for Danielle to be a special guest contributor to this blog on any topic she wished. She chose to write about Pinterest, which continues to be largely a mystery to me, though less so than previously, thanks to Danielle’s help. Check out her post below and then follow her on Pinterest (@Danielle0100) for cool pictures you can look at, send to people and do things with. I hope you enjoy this post like I did. Thanks Danielle!!!

 

To pin? Or not to pin? That is the question!

Have you been on Pinterest? Do you know what the buzz is all about? Pinterest is the ultimate time sucker! It’s like signing into a vortex where you can find limitless amounts of information about whatever you could possibly think of.

Let’s start with the basics. First, you need to create a board of Pinterest to pin on. You can categorize your boards and have as many as you like. You can also make boards secret so that not a soul can see what you pin. Second, you can search for things to pin to your boards. This is where things get fun! There’s all kinds of catagories: humor, DIY home stuff, baking, crafts, exercising, inspirational quotes, birthday party ideas, meal prep, hair styles, etc etc. The options are limitless. Finally, when you click the pin, it links to the webpage for more information.

My personal favorite is humor because who doesn’t love to laugh or need a good laugh from time to time. I also enjoy looking at ideas to bake and arts and crafts. I may not ever end up doing things but it’s still inspirational. Here are some examples!

How could those not make you laugh? Or at least smile? They are all so true and relatable. So Pinterest is good for when you need a little pick me up regardless of the time of day!

Ah! How could I forget? One of my absolute favorite parts of Pinterest is that you can send messages to people! So when you find something hilarious or interesting you can send it to someone. Whenever I get messages, it brightens my day because I know that someone was thinking of me! I also love to send messages in hopes that other people will laugh.

Finally, not every idea comes out how you imagine it will. I was inspired by Pinterest two years ago to make an Easter bunny cake with my little brother. Here is the inspiration:

Looks easy enough, bake a circle cake, smoosh it together, frost it, and you’re golden. The result: first brace yourself! It came out looking more like something from a Zombie apocalypse. Terrifying! Apparently, eyes should not have been added!

EPIC PINTEREST FAIL! Oh well! It sure made for a good laugh and immediate enjoyment! Thankfully, it did not taste as bad as it looked!

One last warning about Pinterest. Once you get sucked into the vortex, it’s difficult to quit. It’s like crack! But it’s fun, enjoyable, and sometimes inspirational! Hopefully, I’ll see you around! Feel free to follow me @Danielle0100. Or better yet, send me pins of what you find hilarious or inspiring!

The post To Pin or Not to Pin first appeared on Leaving a Mark.

The following is a free preview of Chapter 3 from my eBook on dating and relationships. 

Early in the relationship, each party must ask him or herself, “Why am I going on this date?” Yes, it could be to have fun. Sure, it might be to gain be to gain valuable experience. Obviously, it could be to score free pizza. And, of course, free pizza should never be taken lightly – especially if it is kind with cheese in the crust.

• Do you think Larry Bird was an angel?
• Would you agree that Hulk Hogan was the best wrestler of all time?
• Do you like poodles?
• Do you know who the Old Man on the Mountain was?
• Did you cry when he died?
• Do you think the song “I believe I can fly” is stupid? (Nobody can fly, sorry)
• Was the Cookie Monster a key influence on you growing up?
• Do you still miss Antoine Walker?
• Do you like this cologne that makes me smell like Taco Bell?
• Do you think it is a good idea to always poke the people in your Facebook “Suggested Pokes” list?
• If you had to choose between me and Tom Brady, who would you choose? (Trick question, no right answer)
• Was “Endless Love” performed by Lionel Ritchie and Diana Ross the most romantic song ever made?

The post Dating & Relationships: Core Values first appeared on Leaving a Mark.