This probably sounds trite, and just another cliche, but my main spiritual goal is to be rewarded in the life after this one. My spiritual path will, hopefully, carry me toward this goal.

I don't "try" to love unconditionally. I just do. My husband and children are at the top of any list, along with my mother. My sisters, two of whom I have very little in common with besides our mutual heritage, are also there. And my nieces and nephews, including one nephew who is doing something I strongly disagree with on a moral basis. He's still my nephew.

Is it possible to love with conditions? How does that work?

All of my life, I have always thought much more about the future. If I would marry and have kids. What I would study in college. What I planned to do with my life. (I'm still working on that part.)

Now I watch as my sons complete school, thinking already about their graduations from high school and college. I anticipate watching my granddaughters grow and welcoming new daughters-in-law and new grandchildren into the family. I look forward to the day when (and if) my husband can retire. I hope that my writing career will take off.

Once in a while I do get caught up in past events--sweet times with my family and old hurts that haven't quite gone away. But I focus much more on the future. It is so much more interesting.

There are individual songs that have meant something to me at various times of my life, but the music of one artist has affected me more than any other. The artist is Cat Stevens, who I first started listening to in the '70s. I enjoyed all his music, but the song "Morning Has Broken" moved me deeply. It inspired me in my faith.

When Cat Stevens converted to Islam, I wondered what had led him there. At the time, I was vaguely familiar with Islam but not inclined toward it. My conversion came in 1980, three years after Cat Stevens.

I met the man a few times, while he was still allowed to come to the US. He visited our community and our Islamic school in Kansas City, and once performed "The Wind" for students and teachers. When I decided to start writing novels I had a discussion with him about whether literature or movies would be the better way to go.

For twenty years after I became a Muslim I stayed away from music, for the most part, listening to those who told me it was forbidden. But then Cat Stevens, who had changed his name to Yusuf Islam, returned to his guitar. He started out slowly. Over a year ago he released a new CD, which I have, of course--along with many of his older albums.

There was one early song. I saw him perform it live, for the first time, in 1984 at an Islamic convention in Dayton, Ohio. It's called "A is for Allah." We taped it. In the background of our tape you can hear a baby crying. That baby is my second son and now he's almost 25 years old.

Yusuf Islam's son is very interested in music. He has probably inherited his father's talent, but I can't imagine he could match the legacy of his father.

There are three. The first is Jesus. His image, both physical and spiritual, has been altered by artists and theologians to suit their own agendas. I would like to meet the real Jesus.

The second is Muhammad. We Muslims strive to be like him, learning his words and actions through the accounts of his companions. How much better it would be to be able to sit with him and learn directly.

The third is Umar ibn al-Khattab, the second Islamic caliph. I named one of my sons after him. Before his conversion, Umar was feared by everyone. He was physically strong and very tough in his principles. One day he decided to kill Muhammad, but on his way there someone told him that his sister had become a Muslim. When he found her, with her husband, reading the Qur'an, he slapped her in the face. But her blood softened his heart. He asked to see what she was reading. She demanded that he wash himself first. He did. Later he went to Muhammad to convert. As caliph, he developed the Islamic systems of education and justice, among other things. He ruled for ten years and is highly admired.

I can never love someone who kills or molests the innocent. There's far too much of that.

Marketing skills for selling my books. I love writing but I'm terrible at making sales--probably couldn't sell water in the desert.

As much as I can.

But really, I think that the most important part of my education is the simplest. These are the lessons I knew as a small child, but may have forgotten. How to appreciate the beauty of the world. How to be amazed at the intricacy of creation. How to put aside my own needs and desires in order to share with others.

Most importantly, I need to learn that as large as some of the issues of my life can seem, they are nothing. I am a small spot in the universe, even smaller in the history of the universe. What I can do is to serve my Creator, mostly by serving those around me, and not think of myself as being too important.

For the last few hours, days, weeks, months, and years, it's nearly all been about family. I'm close to my mother and sisters and have a great relationship with my husband, our sons, and our daughter-in-law. (My oldest granddaughter barely remembers me and I haven't met the youngest yet. I hope to remedy that soon.)

Family was an important part of my childhood. My sisters and I are all very different and sometimes we argued (and occasionally we still do) but my mother emphasized to us that, no matter what, we must always stay together. That turned out to be one of the greatest lessons of my life.

It's easy, once you learn how to do it.

When my husband and I were first married, even though we'd known each other for five years, mostly as friends, we had so much to learn. Little habits and annoying idiosyncracies. Things that were sure to set the other person off. The right timing for discussions and, simply, the rhythm of our relationship. Now, after 27 years, we have a steady love that neither of us can imagine being without.

Peace. Please.

It's usually not something I know, but something I feel.

A couple of weeks ago I started a new novel but wrote only half a page. That half a page sustained me, because I felt it was good and set a good foundation for the story. Just now I wrote another page, and plan to write a little more before going to bed. The story is flowing. I haven't studied what I've already written, or analyzed it, but I feel it.

About a year ago I was working on a story that stalled before I reached the climax. It didn't seem to be working for me. Lately, though, that story keeps coming to my mind. After I finish my current project, I think I'll go back and see what I can salvage. The foundation was good, but I went astray somewhere. Now, with the distance of time, I can go back and tweak what I've written to make it work. Again, though, it's not knowing but feeling.

My best moments as a writer are when I can read what I've written and get emotional about it. There are some passages that never fail to make me cry, and some that always make me laugh.

And sometimes the story takes a dramatic turn and I'm not sure where it's going, or why, but everything comes together in the end. That's the best feeling of all for a writer.

(Well, besides getting the Nobel Prize.)

Overwhelmed. Not by work demands, as I used to be, but by events.

Yesterday I learned of the murder of a woman in New York, brutally killed by her husband. I have always been deeply opposed to domestic violence, but this tragedy hit me at a deeper level. Maybe it's because once, a few years ago, I briefly met the husband in conjunction with the TV station he founded. He was well-known and widely-respected in certain circles. Lives and reputations change in a heartbeat.

Now I have a stronger commitment to work against domestic violence. It cannot, must not be tolerated. Girls must be taught, at a young age, not to accept abuse. Boys must be taught, at a young age, not to be abusive, not to ever hit back in a moment of frustration. Women and children must be helped. Men must be held accountable. (And if women are the abusers, they also must answer.)

My views on this subject were always clear, but they have become sharpened in the last two days. As a result, I'm still experiencing many emotions which overwhelm me.

My answer depends on who's asking, and why.

The simple response is that I came from St. Louis, the city of my birth. For more detail, I can add that my paternal grandparents came from Greece and my mother's ancestors came from Germany.

Because I'm an American Muslim convert, some want to know about my faith journey. I came from a Lutheran family, attended a parochial elementary school, and attended a Lutheran seminary for one semester. Depending on the person, I could go into more detail.

What kind of family did I come from? I'm the oldest of four girls. We all grew up in the suburbs of St. Louis County. My parents emphasized the importance of going to college, and we all have college degrees. I have four nephews and three nieces, and I keep in regular contact with my sisters.

Does that answer the question?

I have very few regrets, and most of them are minor.

Some major life decisions I do not regret are:

1.  Being a writer. I only wish I had done it sooner. Each of us has at least one area of specialization, and this is mine.

2.  Becoming a Muslim. My conversion was the culimination of a four-year process of study and introspection. In the beginning, this was something I never expected to do. But it has been over 28 years now and I am very certain it was the right decision.

3.  Marrying my husband. We had a few obstacles along the way. Our cultural differences was one. Another was the expectation of his parents that he would return to Thailand and marry a Thai girl. But there was an attraction from the beginning, and after five years of friendship that's what finally won out. It will be 28 years this August.

4.  Having six children. When I was a teenager I didn't want to marry or have any children whatsoever. I never envisioned six. But who would I give up? Each has a distinct personality that has sometimes made me feel like pulling my hair out, but has more often added joy and fulfillment to my life.

There have been many smaller decisions along the way, from choosing the house we live in to buying this laptop. Of all my decisions, I am very happy with most of them.

The moment when each of my children was born.

I'm the oldest. My parents didn't give me the responsibilities of the oldest, such as taking care of my younger sisters (they're not that much younger than me), but I did often hear, "You're the oldest. You have to set the example."

Growing up as the oldest in a fairly religious household in the 60s, and going to a parochial school, I learned how to control myself. My face still betrays me, but I work hard sometimes to keep everything else under wraps. At times, in the recent past, I've worked so hard at this that I've come under great stress. In the last few years I've relaxed a little, but there are still expectations. Now they come mostly from my husband and my children. (It doesn't help that my husband has a fairly large profile in our community.)

So I've been controlled, for the most part, except for those years when I was accountable to no one--five years in my early 20s when I let loose just a little and did what I wanted.

I was just talking with one of my sons about this, and I warned him that one day I would let loose again. As I get older, I care less about what people expect of me. For now, I lose my self-control mostly vicariously, through my characters.

Inside the words and actions of the characters I write.

Muslims believe that angels are separate beings, completely different than humans. I will never be an angel.

But if I could make a difference in the lives of people, and protect them, I would concentrate mostly on children. Much of the abuse and neglect so many suffer occurs behind closed doors. There can never be too many advocates for the most innocent among us.

The sun will set soon but I got exactly the kind of weather I wanted today. Highs in the 50s. Blue skies. Even the squirrels, scampering in our yard, were enjoying the taste of spring. It was wonderful to roll my car windows down and feel the sun on my face.

They're predicting rain and snow again this weekend. Temperatures will plummet before gradually climbing again. Forecasts like that make me even more grateful for a day like today.

The biggest basic of my life is my faith. That can't be compromised.

Everything else is unpredictable and fluid. My family is so very important to me, but the people I love are constantly changing. The children I once gave birth to, nursed, and diapered are now men. The man I married is still fit and fairly energetic, but a little slower now, with white hairs replacing the black. And I shudder to consider the changes in myself--before a thin, strong, young woman and now a little lumpier and much slower, with lines in my once-smooth face.

So I enjoy my life and what it has to offer, knowing that while everything else changes, one thing--my faith--remains constant and fresh.

Learning, writing with faith and family.