Marsha's Blog

Dear Friends,  This morning as you’re opening this, we are in Barcelona, Spain. For most of you, you will know that this is where the famous architect Gaudi started building his famous basilica, "Sagrada Família" 144 years ago. If you’re like me and don’t know what a ‘basilica’ is, it’s kinda like a church building with no congregation.  We went inside it a few years ago, and I have to say it’s probably the most beautiful place of (not) worship I’ve ever seen. Unfortunately, we won’t be able to go inside today because Tony’s busy leading the worship service on board the ship! (in a room with no permanent congregation as well), but that’s another story, hopefully for next week!!  Please enjoy this following article I came across and remember that God is still honoured in the world:   …..Sagrada Família has almost touched the sky. In Barcelona, something happened for which the world had been waiting for 144 years.! The Basilica of the Sagrada Família — one of the ...

 I won't lie when I say I was pretty confused about God when our son died.  We'd tried everything, promised everything, threatened even more.  I even told God I wouldn't believe in Him if He let my son die.  I had to stop right there in the hospital corridor and chuckle when His immediate answer came to my mind, "Oh great, lose your son and your God at the same time”. Fortunately, I lost neither, but now my son was in Heaven and my God felt far away.  I had nothing to say. We left the States on our way back to Japan, planning to bury his ashes at the church where he had grown up. At the insistence of our mission, we had a stopover in Australia for some time of rest and reflection. We were reminded that we still had an 11-year-old son, Nathan, who had been largely ignored for the last eight months. “Don’t make him a victim, too,” we were told.  I had a book (back before the internet) and we found a 'Farm Stay’ near the airport in Brisbane.  We'd go ther...

Good Morning Friends, Thank you again for keeping up with us during this travel-time. And I hope you’ve been able to follow my “thought trains” as I’ve rambled along, trying to craft this wonderful language we call English. I am so grateful to have been born in a country where necessity had decreed that everything I undertake, from mealtime to worship has to be in English if I am to survive. Otherwise, I’m afraid life would have turned out much differently than it has. I say this because lately as we find ourselves in a new country almost every other day, I’ve gained a greater respect for those who have had to learn the challenges of speaking to people like me. And as a tribute to those intrepid interpreters, I’d like to remind them that from time to time, we native English speakers don’t do much better. What better place to find examples than in our own daily diatribes?  Here are a few illustrations taken from letters sent to various government offices over the years.  So her...