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My dad worked on ambulances for a while; my mother had a lot of different jobs with the city.

During war time, when people were injured, I was really frustrated I did not become a doctor. It's painful not being able to save people, witnessing their pain.

My father suffered much and toiled painfully all his life, for he had no resources other than the proceeds of his trade from which to support himself and his wife and family.

Whenever there was a crisis, I found a man to help me take the edge off the feelings of helplessness and pain.

I was in L.A. during an earthquake in 1994, an experience that really stressed me out. I started doing yoga to calm my nerves.

My father's death, my move, and my frightening and difficult delivery created a tremendous amount of stress, pain, and sadness for me. I was practically devastated beyond recovery.

I have lived pain, and my life can tell: I only deepen the wound of the world when I neglect to give thanks the heavy perfume of wild roses in early July and the song of crickets on summer humid nights and the rivers that run and the stars that rise and the rain that falls and all the good things that a good God gives.