A Green Light for Our New Shelter Home: City Council Upholds CUP
By Jodi Peterson-Stigers
On September 30, Boise City Council voted to uphold the Conditional Use Permit (CUP) for Interfaith Sanctuary’s new Reimagined Shelter Home on State Street, a decisive step that clears the path for construction to continue and opens the door for our unhoused neighbors to have a safe, stable place to call home.
After years of hearings, appeals, neighborhood meetings, and a rollercoaster of emotions, the vote came as both a relief and a celebration. The decision confirms that the project meets the city’s requirements for safety, design, and community benefit, allowing our team to focus on the work that matters most: building a trauma-informed, 24/7 shelter that will welcome families, seniors, single adults, and the medically fragile.
The new 42,500-square-foot campus will replace the current 10,000-squarefoot warehouse shelter, offering private rooms for families, an early-education classroom, a medical dorm for hospice and respite care, outdoor play areas, dedicated spaces for adults to gather during the day, and more, all designed to support stability, dignity, and hope.
With the CUP upheld, the finish line is finally in sight. Construction crews are working hard to complete the building so we can welcome guests before the holidays. What once felt like a distant dream is now just weeks away from becoming a reality, a true home where our community’s most vulnerable can find safety, warmth, and support.
Now, the focus turns to filling this new shelter with furniture, warmth, and love. Through our Furnishing Hope campaign, the community can help us bring every space to life, from beds and dressers in the family dorms to cozy chairs in the teen lounge, bookshelves in the library, desks in the classrooms, and welcoming touches in every room.
There are many ways to take part: sponsor a room that speaks to your heart, purchase a single item like a chair or lamp, or join us for a build day to assemble furniture alongside volunteers. Every piece sponsored, every wall painted, and every shelf stocked will transform this building into a home.
With City Council’s vote behind us and the generosity of our village ahead, we are filled with a renewed sense of momentum and hope. Together, we can open the doors by the holidays and create a place where every guest feels safe, welcome, and remembered.
To learn more about furnishing hope visit our website at interfaithsanctuary. org or use this handy QR Code.
Fred Cornforth: The Man Behind the Fred Awards
By Jodi Peterson-Stigers
Many people in Boise knew Fred Cornforth in different ways. To some, he was a generous philanthropist who funded more than 50 orphanages around the world, established three food banks at Idaho colleges, and gave generously toward the construction of Interfaith Sanctuary’s new State Street Shelter.
Others knew him as a dedicated coach who encouraged young athletes to reach their goals, or as a visionary who founded Love Heals Free Clinic, bringing medical, dental, and vision care to anyone in need. He was also a tireless advocate for housing initiatives, a leader in the Democratic Party of Idaho, a man of deep faith
who served as a Seventh-day Adventist minister, and, above all, a beloved friend, son, husband, father, and grandfather who always made time for his family.
Fred lived his 63 years with purpose and generosity, leaving a lasting impact on the Boise community and far beyond. He passed away on March 15, 2024, after bravely battling an aggressive brain cancer. This special evening is a celebration of the people who keep our mission moving forward with their boots on the ground and embody what it means to be a FRED - Fearless, Resilient, Empathetic, and Dynamic. It’s the night our do-gooders, change-makers, and big-hearted dreamers come together to celebrate lifting each other up.
The FRED Award recipients will be announced on October 1, alongside the launch of ticket sales and table sponsorships. The second annual Fred Awards will be held at Treefort Music Hall on November 19. Tickets and sponsorship details will be available interfaithsanctuary.org
Fred’s legacy continues to inspire the Boise community to give more than they receive and to use their own gifts to help others. That spirit is at the heart of the Fred Awards and is the lasting story of the remarkable man who inspired them.
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EDITOR IN CHIEF
Molly Balison
WOTS WRITERS/COLUMNISTS
Bo Gerri Graves
Julie Loomis
Nick Rogers
Nate Dodgson
Chris Alverez
Jodi Peterson-Stigers
Molly Balison
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ART COLLECTIVE DIRECTOR
Chris Alvarez
CONTACT THE EDITOR
To submit story ideas or community articles, please send request and information to molly@interfaithsanctuary.org
POETRY CORNER UNDER THE MOONLIGHT
By Julie Loomis
Blame it on the chilly breeze, the moonlight shining eerily.
Quickly I feel my heart freeze, a crackling branch startles me.
Do I hear a distant tread?
This moon lite walk, I start to dread.
I see a shadow in the gloom, My cat is what’s my terrible doom.
GOLD
By Elliot
There is a poem I read from Robert Frost called “Nothing Gold Can Stay” . It’s been my favorite from when I first read it in “The Outsiders”. It goes like this:
Nature first green is gold, Her hardest hue is hold. Her early leaf’s a flower; But only so an hour, Leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief, So dawn goes down to day. Nothing gold can stay.
It has so much meaning to me because not everything stays the same or lasts, but everything is so beautiful. You can find beauty in anything you can see, but it can also disappear.
Clipped Wings 4 WHY?
By Alexa Hazel
You’re probably wondering, “why?”. That’s not always an answer we get, this side of heaven.
But what if in the hard, we clung to what’s true?
That there’s a good God who loves you. That genuine hope can be found in Jesus. That even in the valley of the shadow of death, He won’t leave us.
What if in the mess, we banded together instead of welcoming the divide?
Letting our unity and diversity be a place of refuge and change the tide.
Pray for your enemies, bless those who curse you, and then maybe they’ll see Jesus, who suffered in our place on that cursed tree.
A God who was willing to enter into our suffering might be hard to believe, and yet it’s right there where hope and healing occur, and you can finally be set free.
It may seem nobody cares. It may seem no good can come from this.
Yet, in the dark, may we look to the living God with holes in His wrist.
For you.
For me.
To redeem this wretched world, Jesus died on that tree.
Evil will not win.
It couldn’t hold our God down two thousand years ago, and it won’t start now.
Come, all who are weary, heavy, and asking “why?”.
His yoke is easy and His burden is light.
By Shyloh Crawfurd
I used to flinch at shadows’ weight, Mistaking absence for my fate. The prayers they made me memorize Were lullabies in saintly lies.
I knelt to gods who watched me break, Who called it love for heaven’s sake. I wore the guilt like second skin, Believing I invited sin.
They said, “Obey, and you’ll be blessed,” But blessings came with hands and threats.
Each verse a warning wrapped in gold—
Each promise crumbled when I told. They called it healing, called it grace,
But all I saw was His blank face.
My body wasn’t born impure,
But they convinced me pain was cure. I once believed I had to bend,
To twist, to shrink, to make amends.
But now I see what wasn’t mine—
The shame, the hush, the forced design. I count the ribs they taught to hide,
The parts of me they crucified.
But even ghosts will fade with time— And I am not their perfect crime. I speak, though silence cost me years. I write, though trembling through the tears.
And every line they tried to bind
Now sings with what they could not find.
I am the hymn they never knew, A faith reborn, not built on you. And though I rise with battered wings, I soar beyond their reckoning.
Starting to Believe
Shyloh was invited by Chris Johnson, a member of Collister Methodist Church to share his story during Sunday Service. He has agreed to allow us to reprint his speech in this issue of WOTS. He brought the house down!
by Shyloh Crawfurd Hi everyone,
I want to start off by being completely honest with you — I never thought I’d be standing in a church, talking about God. Because for a long time, I didn’t believe He was real. And even now, I still wrestle with that every day. It’s hard to have faith when your life feels like one long test you never signed up for. When it feels like every time you start to stand up, the world knocks you right back down.
I didn’t grow up in some peaceful home where people prayed together at dinner. I grew up in a house where God’s name was thrown around like a threat. Where “faith” was twisted into fear, and “obedience” meant keeping quiet, even when you were being hurt.
I was told that the pain I went through was somehow “God’s will.” That I was being punished, that I had to suffer to be saved. And when you’re a kid hearing that from the people who are supposed to love you, you start believing maybe you really are the problem. Maybe you deserve it. That kind of upbringing doesn’t just hurt your body — it breaks something inside you. It makes it hard to trust anyone, especially a God who supposedly watched it all happen. When I got older, I thought leaving that house would mean things would finally get better. Little did I know that life was about to throw me another curveball. My family
turned their backs on me, the day I turned 18 and drove me from Mountain Home, to Boise and dropped me off at a homeless shelter. Some because I’m gay. Some because I was the “troubled adopted kid, who had no future” and they didn’t want to deal with that. Either way, I was out — and I was alone.
And that’s when the spiral really started. You tell yourself you’re strong, that you’ll figure it out — but when you’re sleeping on the streets, when every night you wake up covered in bedbug bites, when people walk past you like you don’t exist — it starts to eat away at you.
It’s hard to believe in God when you’re freezing, when you haven’t eaten in days, when you’re standing in line for a shower that might not even have hot water. It’s hard to pray when you feel dirty, forgotten, and unwanted.
People tend to say “God doesn’t give you more than you can handle.” But when you’ve hit rock bottom, and you’re still sinking lower, when you’ve got nothing left — you start to wonder if that’s just something people say to make themselves feel better.
For a long time, I stopped believing in anything. Not in God. Not in people. Not even in myself. I just existed.
And then, I found Interfaith Sanctuary. I didn’t go there because I had some spiritual
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An Army of Helpers: JustServe Volunteers Bring Hope to State Street
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Speech: continued from 2
awakening. I went because I needed help — plain and simple. I needed a place to sleep. I needed a break from fighting the world alone. I needed some semblance of safety and security.
But what I found there… was something I didn’t expect.
I found kindness.
Not the kind of kindness that’s obviously performative. The genuine kind — the kind that sneaks up on you. Someone handing you a cup of coffee on a cold morning. Someone remembering your name when you didn’t think anyone would. Someone saying, “You matter,”
without actually needing to say the words. Nobody there asked me to prove I was worthy of help. Nobody told me to pray harder or to “fix” myself first. They just met me where I was — tired, angry, scared, doubting everything — and they loved me anyway.
And somewhere in that, something in me started to shift.
I started to wonder — maybe God isn’t who I thought He was. Maybe He’s not the one who hurt me, or the one who stayed silent while I was suffering. Maybe He’s the reason I have a second chance to make myself into something. Maybe He’s the reason people at Interfaith care so deeply.
By Molly Balison and Jodi Peterson-Stigers
When there’s a need in the community, there’s an army of volunteers waiting to be ignited for their next service project. Over eighty volunteers in the Treasure Valley have teamed up with JustServe, a wonderful volunteer platform, established in 2012, by the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, that connects people who want to help with local organizations that need an extra set of hands. Their mission is simple: make it easy for neighbors to serve their community in meaningful ways.
Through JustServe, volunteers of all ages and backgrounds can discover opportunities that fit their time, talents, and passions, from assembling furniture to serving meals or helping at special events. Their team has a gift for bringing people together and creating experiences that make giving back feel joyful, purposeful, and deeply rewarding.
JustServe volunteers dedicated their Sept. 11 week of service to learning more about Interfaith Sanctuary’s new shelter and providing much needed donations for the current shelter operation. Thirty-six volunteers attended tours of our new shelter on State St. led by Executive Director Jodi Peterson-Stigers, to learn, connect and find ways to be of service to our new home.
One volunteer, Amy Siddoway, said, “Seeing the new State Street Shelter was absolutely amazing! I couldn’t believe how every room in the shelter had a purpose and was planned with great love and care…There were so many resources to help care for and teach the residents.”
Like Siddoway, other volunteers learned
Maybe God doesn’t always show up in the ways we expect — not as a voice in the clouds, but as a warm meal, or a safe bed, or a stranger who treats you with dignity when the world doesn’t.
I still have doubts. I still get angry. I still have nights when I look up and ask, “Why me?” But I also have something I didn’t before — hope.
Hope that maybe I’m being given a second chance. Hope that maybe I can build a new life, one that isn’t defined by the pain I came from. Hope that maybe redemption doesn’t come in one big miracle — but in small, quiet steps back toward believing life can be good again.
that the building on State Street will give guests a home address and 24/7 access to , not just a place to stay at night. All the more reason
One JustServe specialist, Bryn Booker, helps oversee volunteers and search for new service opportunities. “When people are serving together, it doesn’t matter what they believe, it doesn’t matter their background, it doesn’t matter the differences. Something we can all unite around is doing good, ” she said
In her four years of involvement with JustServe, she has seen and experienced the mutual benefit of service for both the people being served and those serving.
While on the tour the groups learned about Furnishing Hope, Interfaith Sanctuary’s community-powered program that invites donors and volunteers to help turn our new State Street shelter into a welcoming home. Supporters can sponsor individual pieces of furniture or entire rooms, from the teen lounge to the early-education classroom, and even join us for build days to assemble and set up the spaces.
To Booker, the heart behind JustServe is, “The second greatest commandment to ‘love thy neighbor.’” By donating, buying and building furniture, JustServe will be extending their love to our unhoused neighbors to make their space a home.
“The tour helped me truly understand the needs and care of the residents and the challenges they face on a daily basis,” Siddoway said, “This new shelter is greatly needed in our community.
You can learn more about Furnishing Hope on our websitehttps://interfaithsanctuary. org/furnishing-hope/
Interfaith Sanctuary didn’t just give me shelter. It gave me a reason to believe in people again — and maybe, just maybe, in something bigger than all of us.
I don’t know where I stand with God. But I know that every time someone offers me kindness without judgment, every time someone chooses compassion over fear — I feel something that feels holy.
Maybe that’s all faith really is — not certainty, but showing up anyway.
And if that’s true, then I guess I’m starting to believe again — just in a different kind of way. Thank you.
By the WOTS Team
This is a special section dedicated to all the FREDS in our world. Our writers chose someone who possesses the characteristics of a FRED — fearless, resilient, empathetic, and dynamic — and wrote about how this person has impacted their lives. Who is a FRED in your life?
Who are our FREDS? I Was Raised by a FRED Grandparents
By Jodi Peterson-Stigers
My dad, Charles Bernard Margolin, was fearless, resilient, empathetic, and so very dynamic. His life was not easy. He came from humble beginnings and faced significant challenges, including a severe stutter that made communication difficult. Yet his ambition and his drive to do good were fierce. He worked tirelessly to overcome obstacles and to create a beautiful life for our family and for our community.
My dad ran a business with one guiding principle: take care of your employees, and the customers will feel the difference. He believed that when staff felt valued and appreciated, their work became a gift to others. His leadership went beyond the workplace. He became a respected voice in the business world, standing fearlessly on stages and sharing his knowledge, even as his stutter sometimes followed him into the spotlight.
Together with my mother, he helped build a senior center for our Jewish community in California. It became a place for elders to reconnect, celebrate their culture, and share their stories of survival during the Holocaust. My dad knew the names of every server at his favorite restaurants and kept a drawer full of birthday and thank-you cards ready to send
Empathic Fred
By Angelika Hungerford
There was a time in my life when I was challenged and needed help with the emotional pain of being pregnant and single.
The wonderful part of this timing is that an opportunity was provided as I received a position to assist a lovely lady, Laverne Tinsley, who became not only my boss, but also a friend and mentor. Throughout the years, she and I became very close both professionally and personally. She encouraged me to understand that not only was education important, the side of building relationships with others was vital. She was the Assistant Vice President of the Customer Service Department for orphaned policy holders.
This also reflects empathy to those
to friends and colleagues. He made a practice of celebrating people. Through his example, he taught me how to see others, how to care for them, and how to believe in myself. He gave me wings by believing in me so completely.
I always knew he was a powerful force for good, but I did not understand the full measure of his bravery until my mother passed away. In her absence, my dad suffered a psychotic break. Only then did I begin to understand what he had been overcoming his entire life. He had lived with severe mental illness, something we, as his children, never knew. My mother fought fiercely to protect him from the stigma of those times, shielding us and others from his struggle. It was only after her passing that we learned the truth. He had battled this debilitating disease all along, but with my mother’s unwavering love and care he managed to find ways back to stability. When his illness became too overwhelming, my mother would take him to the hospital where he would stay for a time to receive treatment. We grew up thinking he was away on business, never knowing that he was quietly fighting for his health and his balance.
He was funny, dynamic, caring, and deeply good. He also fought demons in silence, with my mother always at his side. After she was gone, he lost the will to continue that fight, and in 2014 we lost him too.
My father was a FRED in every sense of the word. Fearless in his ambition. Resilient in the face of obstacles. Empathetic in how he saw and cared for others. Dynamic in the way he lived and gave. His life, with all its triumphs and struggles, continues to be my greatest teacher.
By Chris Alvarez
I had both sets of grandparents growing up, and I was really lucky. They were fearless, resilient, empathetic, and dynamic. My mom’s dad was in the First Cavalry Army in WW2 in the Pacific and fought hand-to-hand. My dad’s dad did the same in the Navy in the same war. My mom’s mom was a housewife who never had a driver’s license, and my nana (dad’s mom) was also a housewife in the very traditional sense, keeping a tight house.
Both grandmas and grandpas were the same in those regards. All fearless people who physically fought for our freedom and their families, synonymously fighting non-physical wars in the socioeconomic battles on the home front of the United States, which seems to never end because of greed among us.
Resilience was apparent in all of their lives, starting from my mom’s parents being from Mexico, having
A Ray of Hope
By Molly Balison
who have the perception that they may have been forgotten. Allowing the growth of the department, even if it was small, gave the completion to a larger picture.
Later on the consolidation of four companies happened and I was chosen to take the task of communicating to the employees that would be let go. This weighed heavily on my mind. However, it was also a way of displacing the emotion and action of empathy.
As the future came to pass, Luverne and I kept in touch and later in life, she died of cancer. Thus she was no longer in pain and I also knew that this friendship remained. The writer of empathy is that it leads to a pathway of meeting others who also provide service and care, no matter what their title or status.
I’ve never met anyone like Rayleah Valles. When I think of her, the words fearless, resilient, empathic and dynamic, naturally come to mind.
At just eight years old, she fearlessly fought stage 3 melanoma. She always held onto hope that she was going to survive. She recounted to me that she saw Jesus standing at the foot of her hospital bed. He reached out to her and told her she was going to be okay. Those words carried her through six invasive surgeries and daily chemotherapy for two years, until Rayleah saw victory over illness.
To this day, she faces trials with the same assurance she isn’t alone. This hope has made her one of the most resilient people I know. Not only for beating cancer, but also for enduring other health issues and setbacks that have tried to knock her down. She wanted to travel the
to endure systemic racism at the time, and still being able to succeed despite having to fight this uphill battle. Meanwhile, my dad’s parents were experiencing the socioeconomic turnstile of blue-collar work in return for a hopefully satisfying existence.
They were all empathetic people, taking in family strays off the street and giving them a good life. For example, certain cousins who were having a hard time. They loved everyone, and everyone loved all of my grandparents.
Dynamically, I believe that all of this encompasses that definition due to the fact that they were able to achieve a high level of conscious life amidst all of the turmoil and love that life has to offer. I love them all and I miss them every single day more than words can express. I can only hope that I will be wherever they are when my body turns back into dust.
world to share her faith so she raised the funds and did so in three different countries, including Italy where she and I got to share messages of hope on the oldest college campus in Europe.
Even in her pain, she finds a way to care for others, radiating empathy. When she was 11 years old, she dreamed up a foundation to raise awareness for skin cancer and prevention. She organized a 5k run where she raised $3,000 for the Michael Hoefflin Foundation for Children’s Cancer, then raised more than $9,000 for the Children’s Cancer Research Fund in honor of her friend Christopher who passed from cancer.
I will never forget the time we spent beneath a willow tree along the Greenbelt reading out Bibles and pouring out our hearts to each other. It was as if her empathy wrapped around me like a warm hug. She genuinely listens and reflects that makes people feel seen and heard. Now, we always think of each other when we see a willow tree.
Recently, she had another surgery after suffering chronic pain that interrupted her college education, work and enjoyment of the activities she loves. Four days into her recovery, she told me how she was dreaming about her next steps in life. Her dynamic nature seeks challenges and opportunities to grow. She doesn’t allow fear or setbacks to stunt her
A Ray of Hope: continued on page 6
Stories About Fred being FRED
By Charlie Cornforth
F – Fearless
Fearless doesn’t always mean the absence of fear, in my mind, it’s more about how someone responds when fear is present. My dad embodied that truth. He had an uncanny ability to face challenges that would make most people freeze, and instead, he kept his focus on finding a solution.
We will start with a more humorous story of Dad’s. As a young college student at a Christian college, he and his friend had the brilliant idea to go and toilet paper the college chapel. They ended up getting chased off by campus security and snuck back into their dorm to come face to face with the Dean of students...They were both thinking they had just been caught but continued to keep their cool. The Dean then said that he was so happy to run into them because he needed help tracking down the “possessed” people that were toilet papering the chapel! He and his friend then went and helped the Dean look for themselves for the next two hours.
Later in life, his fearlessness showed up in more serious ways. He organized many mission trips around the world and was once on a trip to Eastern Russia. There was talk of a civil war erupting and Dad made the decision to get his team out of there. When they got to the airport, they were met with serious pushback from the local military who were preventing them from getting on the last plane out. After some conversation and a crisp 20 dollar bill, his team was able to safely depart the country and get back to the US. No matter the situation, he didn’t let Fear stop him; he leaned into it and kept moving forward.
R – Resilient
If my dad believed something was right, he would not back down. He had a determination that was, in a word, resilient.
Dad’s primary business was building low cost housing in areas that needed it. When a major housing project in Baton Rouge, LA was rejected by HUD, most people would have accepted the decision. But not Dad. He got on a plane to D.C., walked into their office, and made his case. He argued for the housing needs of Baton Rouge with such persistence that they eventually approved the project, which would become the Renaissance development.
That resilience extended to his work in politics too. Even in a deeply red state, he pushed forward as the chair of the state Democratic party. I’ll never forget when a friend who worked for Brad Little once told me, “We’re trying to figure out what to do about this Fred Cornforth guy.” Dad made waves because he never gave up on what he believed in. At his core, his relentlessness came from love. He wanted the best for all people, regardless of race, religion, or orientation, and his work in politics while shortened by his cancer diagnosis, was dedicated to making Idaho a better place for everyone.
E – Empathetic
What made Dad’s determination so powerful was that it wasn’t just about winning battles, it was about people. He was deeply empathetic, always able to see and feel what others were going through, having gone through many financial and personal hardships early in his life.
He had a special place in his heart for students who were struggling to get by while finding their place in the world. He knew what that was like, he once lived off nothing but a bag of dried banana chips for two weeks. That empathy led him to create student food banks at Idaho’s 4 biggest universities, amongst many other efforts: such as starting more than 50 orphanages around the world, hosting “Shark Tank”style pitch contests for young entrepreneurs, and funding 73 charitable organizations each year through his company, Community Development Inc.
Dad’s empathy wasn’t passive; it moved him to act. He saw others’ struggles as his own, and then did something about it.
D – Dynamic
Dad was extremely dynamic, energetic and always in motion. He never stopped looking for new ways to make the world better. Food banks, thrift stores, free health clinics, women & children’s shelters, supporting up-and-coming political leaders...he poured his creativity and energy into building solutions wherever he saw need.
He was a hard charger, but more than that, he was a visionary. He could take broad, abstract ideas and turn them into real, tangible results that changed lives.
One of my favorite stories comes from Kyiv, Ukraine where Dad supported an orphanage. In an effort to help the orphanage leaders become self-sufficient in providing for the children, he had bought goats to provide ongoing milk and meat. One day, a government official came through for an inspection and said they would have to eat all of the goats or they would lose their government funding for the orphanage. Dad initially thought it was just a strange policy and agreed to meet their demands. Later on, Dad took a different approach and provided the orphanage with 200 chickens for eggs and meat. The same government official came back with the same threat, that they would need to kill all of the chickens in order to maintain Government aid. Rather than backing down, Dad insisted that the orphanage was simply babysitting his 200 chickens, and that killing them would be a destruction of property case. The government official, realizing that Dad had found a loophole, decided to back off. His creative thinking helped the kids to keep their reliable food source, and still maintain good standing to receive other much needed resources. That’s who he was: bold, inventive, and unstoppable.
Fearless. Relentless. Empathetic. Dynamic. That was Fred Cornforth. My dad lived out each of those qualities not just in words, but in action. Whether it was in big moments that changed communities, or small moments that showed his humor, courage, and heart. His life was proof that one person can be all of those things at once, and leave behind a legacy that inspires the rest of us to keep going.
In Project Well-Being and Project Recovery, these are some of the core values that people expressed:
Respect
Compassion
Community Family
Sobriety
Courage
Kindness
Caring
Friendship
Honesty Integrity
Peace
Maybe these values resonate with you, too. Though each of us faces our own unique situations, as human beings we share common concerns and hold common values. When we remember this, we can be reassured that we are not alone, that others strive for, and yearn for, the same values as we do. When we are struggling, remembering these values can be like seeing the light in a lighthouse on a very dark and rocky shore. They help us re-orient, remember what is most important to us, and find our way by choosing our words and actions in accordance with our values.
So, the next time you find yourself in a quandary, ask yourself: what are the values that are most important to me? What words could I speak and what actions could I take that reflect my values? Perhaps by following our values, we can lead ourselves to new solutions, and to more peace within ourselves.
aspirations for life and looks heavenward as she takes each step.
The girl I met five years ago is not the same girl she is today. We became roommates in college and I watched her leave her old lifestyle behind to follow Jesus wholeheartedly with a fervor that encouraged me to hold fast to my own faith. Her name is a symbol of all she has been through. At birth, she was named Leah, but she added Ray to her first name three years ago to reflect who she had become and I couldn’t be more proud of her. She is truly a Ray of hope and fearless, resilient, empathic and dynamic in every way.
Day Trippin in the Woowoo
By Gerri Graves
I usually write something a little spooky for this time of year, but I decided to offer something a little different this year. Something..... unexplainable? Something a little.....woo woo (wiggles her abracadabra fingers). I’m sure every single one of us has been involved in a situation they just can’t explain.....or witnessed an event that defies logic. Rationally minded folk will most likely chalk it up to a coincidence or perhaps .....a vision malfunction?
I fall mostly into that group, but I have to admit, there are events in my life that are completely.......well, they just don’t make sense.
Nothing as shocking as little green men wearing lingerie having a cuppa at my dining room table. (Does an ex-motherin-law count?) But I do have some weird happenings that I’ve never been able to put my finger on. I make no claims, only tell the tales as witnessed. I’ll leave it up to you to decide what to make of it.
This first one took place about 16 years ago. I was married and living on a farm planted firmly within 2,300 acres of crop fields. It was rather lonely and quiet during the winter, hella depressing.
To escape the winter blues, I read a lot and painted......on everything. This particular day, I was restoring an antique table..... with 1920s/30s Halloween images that I painted by hand. A friend of mine living in Tennessee begged me to do one for her, and I’d finally gotten around to tackling the project.
The day was cold, especially in that old, drafty farmhouse. It had been snowing most of the day, and even with the curtains pulled wide open, the light was rather dim. Dim enough to require a light source over my work area, mid-day. I had Loreena McKennitt playing in the background, and the air was scented with homegrown rosemary & garlic atop a lamb roast I had been cooking ever so slowly in the oven. We had guests over the following night, and I was preparing a shepherd’s pie, the English way, with lamb and vegetables enveloped within a wine-laden sauce. Definitely one of my favorite winter comfort foods. I enjoyed these moments I got to myself. It allowed me some creative time without interruption. Midway through the project, I allowed myself a break. Arming myself against the near white out conditions, I grabbed my winter jacket and umbrella and made my way to the back porch. These were the days when I still smoked, but never in the house. I had never tolerated the smell very well and didn’t want my kids inhaling my bad habit, so......into the cold I went. I seated myself next to a large carved pumpkin that I hadn’t gotten
around to disposing of, on the third step from the top. Gazing out into the white, I noticed a black speck galloping through the winter wheat field. The snow was rather deep, so I was a bit surprised I saw anything at all. It must be relatively large to be seen this far away.
Curious now, I followed it intently. Trying, in vain, to make out what it could be. Too fast for a loose cow or a person. Too dark for a wayward pig. Shorter than a horse, I thought. The closer it got, the more I was convinced it must be a wolf, a large one at that. It was now maybe an acre away from where I sat. It quickly approached the fenced perimeter surrounding the property.......that also divided the wheat field from the soybean field.
It was getting close enough to where my senses were now in a state of heightened alert. A wolf, alone, in this weather must be on the hunt for food......if it was indeed a wolf. Still couldn’t tell. I rattled off an internal list of all the animals we had on the farm. Eyed that all doors were shut, including the hen house. The dog and cats were inside, I knew. Just me feeling a bit like lunch. As I got up to go back into the house, I looked back just in time to see this thing stand! Stand!! On two feet! It jumped the fence effortlessly and continued through the soybean field until the barn obscured it from my view.
Stunned, I stood there. Transfixed.....and not just a little scared. Something bordering on terrified.
I waited for it to come into view on the other side of the barn.....but it never did. I stood there for 15- 20 minutes, waiting. I finally coaxed myself into venturing out to investigate. Up the driveway, past the shop where the tractors were kept.....and onto the other side of the barn, which I was unable to view from where I was sitting. I crept as silently as I could. Knowing there was no way I could outrun it in this deep snow. Hugging the wall of the barn, I peeked my head around the corner. Quickly at first, so as not to be spotted..... and then went all in.
There was nothing there. Not a damn thing. I walked the whole perimeter of the barn, twice.....and nothing.
Even more confused, I walked over to where I approximated he leapt over the fence, hoping the barbed wire had snagged some of his fur, but I never found anything. Even in the subsequent days that followed, I never found anything. Not even the thing that gave me full-body chills. The fence came to bust level.....and I’m 5’.8” and some change. There was just no way someone could jump that height, in this deep of snow.
I had asked my husband if he had ever
seen anything like that, as he had grown up on this farm. He shook his head no and carried on eating his dinner.
I’ve never been able to explain what happened that day, nor has the event ever repeated itself in the years that followed. Second story I have for you is just as astonishing......but rather beautiful. This took place about 20 years ago in Middleton, Idaho.
Bean was two years old and some change, and put the word menace in the dictionary. Luckily, our property was gated. Which we needed for our little terror. Morgause had been gone for maybe three years then, but her death was still tearing me apart. I used many of my hobbies to keep me from lingering in the sorrow and employed my little man to help me plant some pumpkins in the back half-acre. He was so into it, which was surprising. Not sure he quite understood what it was that we were doing, but he was all in. Every day, we’d walk out to the back half-acre and water our pumpkins. His little arms struggled to carry the watering can, but he insisted on being the one to heft it.
He was beside himself with glee when one little pumpkin poked its head through the soil. Jumping and clapping. Screaming, “Wow!”. Couldn’t wait until the rest of the mounds showed a little green, too! When our little plants started to produce real pumpkins, he just had to love on them. Some, to death.....but no blame here. It was absolutely joyful to watch him run through the vines searching for another one.
When the few were big enough, we spread straw and cut plywood to place each pumpkin baby on. He kissed each one and gave the toddler words of growth encouragement.
Every morning, from then on....was ‘kiss all the pumpkins’ time. Before breakfast and sometimes before I got up. I’d hear the back door open and the giggles as he ran out for pumpkin love. Spent a few mornings plucking pumpkin splinters out of his lips, which bothered him not at all. He got up to do it all over again the next day. It was on such a morning that I heard the routine backdoor lock being turned over.....and him squealing as he ran out to the pumpkin patch. I got up and quickly grabbed some clothes. The sorrow was particularly bad that week, and I felt like doing nothing but cry. I’d been struggling with her being alone out there somewhere. She must be so scared. It was the laughter from my son that brought me out of my thoughts, and I followed him out to the back half-acre to see what was going on. As I rounded the corner of the hedge that blocked the view of the pumpkin patch, I was stunned into silence. There, amongst thousands of white butterflies, was my son laughing and dancing amongst them. I fell to my knees and began to weep. See, the symbol of Morgause’s disease was a butterfly......and in every photo we’d ever had of her, she was in white. Antiqued white, little, cotton dresses with hand-tatted lace trims. She couldn’t wear any poly blends, had to be all cotton.....and I had begun to dress her in these little antique white dresses that I found here and there. We buried her in one too.
I recognized this scene for what it was. She was telling me she was okay.
Maybe a month later, I went to a friend’s house for dinner. It was quite the event, and about 20 ladies were in attendance. As we sat around the table chatting, one of the ladies said to me, “I’ve been wondering how to approach this with you......so I guess I’ll just say it. There’s a little girl, all in white .....just above your left shoulder. She’s been with you all night. She’s been trying to tell you that she’s alright.....she wants me to tell you that she’s alright.” I didn’t know this lady. No mention of my daughter was ever uttered that night. I left crying and went home.....and I never saw her again. I don’t even know her name. I don’t know what to make of this except that it’s completely unexplainable. Just another question mark that I’ll never have an answer for......or maybe it’s what I needed to hear, at that moment in time.
A bit of a woo-woo story.....but we all have at least one of them in our lives. It feels appropriate to share as we approach the day for honoring our dead.
Wishing you all a safe and happy All Hallows and Dia De los Muertos. Stay Spooky!
Jodi Peterson-Stigers Approved to Join the Board of the National Women’s Shelter Network
By Jodi Peterson-Stigers
Jodi Peterson-Stigers, Executive Director of Interfaith Sanctuary, has been invited to join the Board of the National Women’s Shelter Network (NWSN).
“I am so honored and humbled to be welcomed into this incredible network of women,” said Peterson-Stigers. “The National Women’s Shelter Network is made up of fierce leaders from across the country who are standing together to support unhoused women, children, and families. To be in their company, and to learn from and work alongside them, is truly one of the greatest honors of my career.”
The National Women’s Shelter Network (NWSN) is a growing alliance of shelters and safe havens dedicated to supporting women and families experiencing homelessness. NWSN strengthens the work of shelters nationwide by sharing knowledge, advocating for policy change, amplifying the voices of women with lived experience, and building a powerful collective that brings hope and healing to
some of the most vulnerable members of our communities.
Peterson-Stigers has served Interfaith Sanctuary in Boise since 2007 and as Executive Director since 2017. Under her leadership, the organization has expanded its mission well beyond emergency shelter to include wrap-around services in recovery, mental health, food service training, workforce development, and creative expression. Currently, she is leading the development of Interfaith Sanctuary’s new “Reimagined Shelter Home” on State Street, a 42,500-square-foot campus designed with trauma-informed care at its core.
“I carry this role with deep gratitude,” Peterson-Stigers added. “The lessons I have learned from our guests at Interfaith Sanctuary, and the unwavering support of our donors and community, will be at the center of everything I bring to NWSN. It is my hope that by linking arms with this national network, we can move closer to a future where every woman and every family has the safety, dignity, and care they deserve.”
For more information on the National Women’s Shelter Network, visit nationalwomensshelternetwork.org