I am sick. OK, having read the headline you are probably shaking your head and muttering, “You sure are. No one loves ironing.”
 

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You’ve spent days and weeks preparing for this opportunity. You’ve enlisted colleagues to give you advice. You've practiced what you want to say. You’ve written many scenarios and improved each time. Those who know the process exclaim, "You’ve got it for sure."  

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Given the vitriolic verbiage that spews from twitter feeds, angry demonstrations, and from protesting groups, my heart often sinks into concern that we have lost the human characteristic of compassion.  

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Grace has been defined as a “gift of God, freely given”.  People with grace evoke a sense of calm with fluid movements and unpretentious presence.  And grace-filled moments rise when a convergence of unexpected events and people evoke a sense of wonder and joy. 

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It had been a long/short trip: long in the amount of time in a plane from Los Angeles to Tokyo to Manila; short in the amount of time on the ground. I arrived in Manila on Wednesday night and flew home Saturday.  I came back utterly exhausted with chills and fever, wobbling when I walked. 

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