New World

"I've reached the point where I hardly care whether I live or die. The world will keep on turning without me, and I can't do anything to change events anyway. I'll just let matters take their course and concentrate on studying and hope that everything will be all right in the end."
Anne Frank,  February 3, 1944

 

I'm not Anne, not even close. I'm not lying on the floor of a cramped attic, crying tears of desperation. I'm sitting in an open, brightly decorated McDonald's building. I have a paper cup half full of Sprite, and I’m listening to white noise on my phone, café noise from mynoise.net. I'm being productive, because it's easy to be productive here. And I'm about to go back- DRIVE back, in fact-  to a warm apartment with a space heater. Where I can sit in a chair and read a book- watch a movie- cuddle under blankets, away from the cold winter wind- fall asleep.

I'm very, very fortunate.

Sometimes, it doesn't seem to matter much, though. The world is full of evil, and I know it, although it's not right in front of me, and "I can't do anything to change events anyway." Sometimes I don't even want to be here anymore.

In this world where people drag other people, who never did anything to harm them, out onto a beach and hack at their necks with knives. Europeans do this. Maybe an American. Children are crucified and moms and dads are burned alive. I could wish that I didn't have an imagination.

Little girls are being raped. Eight, nine, they're supposed to be coloring, playing in sand boxes. They're supposed to be older and stronger when they learn, for the first time, that it's a world full of pain. 

Then the President of the United States, who is supposed to be the leader of the free world, gets up a Summit on Countering Violent Extremism and yammers on and on about making sure we don't discriminate against American Muslims. Oh, and the first mosque, this was an interesting fact, was in North Dakota.

They say he's going to make a deal with Iran, maybe give them nuclear capabilities. That Benjamin Netanyahu, the strong and courageous leader of Israel, is coming to speak in front of Congress, to do his best to protect his country. That Obama wants to delay or deter him because he's afraid of exposure, and some of our Congressmen and Congresswomen are making other plans.

 Yeah, I'm calling Obama "Obama" from now on. A "President" "faithfully execute[s] the office of President of the United States… preserve[s], protect[s], and defend[s] the Constitution" (Presidential Oath of Office). He's not a President, just a part time golfer, part time President-badge-wearer-and-yammerer.

I love that word, yammer. I heard it on Conservative Talk, and it's my new favorite word. Please note that although this post will be very Conservative Talk-y, I do sometimes have thoughts of my own that have nothing to do with Conservative Talk. Please also note that if you think I don't, I don't care anyway because their hosts are brilliant, and even more importantly, TRUTHFUL men, and if I listen to them, and think their thoughts after them, it is because those thoughts are TRUE.

I wish I could trade any one of them for Obama. I'd vote for Dennis Prager- he is the best; after him, Mike Gallagher, Hugh Hewitt or Michael Medved. But Mark Levin has definitely grown on me, so he could be Vice President at least. I used to think he was too much of a loudmouth, but I like him now because he's not worried about being politically correct- not in the slightest. And this should be counted unto him for righteousness.  And he's angry, and I'm angry too, because people are dying- while Obama yammers on about issues that are only issues inside his own head.

"It's all in your head, Mr. Tweedy. Say it!"

This man- Obama- could actually do something to prevent genocide, and he will not. How is an armed security guard, who stands by and watches a woman being stabbed, any more virtuous than her murderer?

 It's a scary, helpless feeling not to have a leader who will stand up to our greatest enemy. "We have the means to wipe these cockroaches off the planet." (Mike Gallagher) But what are "means" without the will to use them?

The Islamo-nazis will grow in size and power. They're "the coolest gang on the planet." They'll come to America- I feel sure of it. I think that most of the suffering we will experience in our lives- you, whoever is reading this, and me- will be caused by these true Muslims. These people who Actually Follow the Koran. Obama won't call them radical Muslims, but honestly? They're TRUE Muslims. I know that peaceful Muslims exist... many, many of them. But the peaceful Muslims are the backsliders.

I learned this today. The Koran is interpreted chronologically. The most violent passages are the most recent ones. In that way, it's directly opposite of the Bible (in which the most violent passages are in the Old Testament, the most loving in the New). Muslims don't have  an age of law and an age of grace. The recent passages take precedence.

I'm not always depressed about all of this. Writing is satisfying. When I write about things that get to me, they actually- kind of- stop getting to me.

But I'm going to worry about it again, I know, maybe without my laptop with me to dump all of it out onto, and then what?

It's hard to believe that we just need to trust in God, and everything will be okay- when trusting in God in Syria, or Libya, or Iraq makes it about five times more likely that you won't have a head for long. I don't want to be morbid, or ruin your thoughts about how much butter to put on your popcorn, but it's probably going to be that way, here, in America, sometime in our lifetimes. Yeah, I wish we had a real leader who would do something to prevent it. But we don't. And we basically have to "just let events take their course."

And sometimes, I don't want to live on this violent, uncertain earth any more. I heard about a mission to Mars- Mars One. They're actually planning to send people on a one-way trip to the Red Planet, where they may only survive for about 68 days. I read an article by Hannah Earnshaw, a dreamy-looking 23 year old girl who is one of the final 100 candidates for the mission. Why would she willingly whittle her own future down to 68 days?

She's idealistic, adventurous, has ideas of creating a new world.

I almost feel like I would go on such a mission, now. Yes, please, just get me out of here.

Well, I'm already going to a new world, and I don't need a spaceship to get there. Just death, however it will be- quick, long, painful, or peaceful as cuddling under a blanket and falling asleep.

And it's a much, much better alternative to this one, and certainly better than Mars could ever be.

I'm going to write a post about Heaven next, because I need to read and write about it. And I'm not going to listen to talk radio tomorrow, or the next day, or the next. I thought about saying I'm not going to listen to it again, but I can't- I just can't. I think I’m a little addicted. But "concentrate on studying and hope that everything will be all right in the end" -I can do that. If Anne Frank, brave little girl, can do that, I can do that. And I have a hope that will not pass away.

The Jihadists of Barack Obama and Marie Harf

"They get paid to cut off heads -- to crucify children, to sell slaves and to cut off heads and I don't think that a change in career path is what's going to stop them." -Rob O'Neill, former Navy SEAL.

I'm not a cartoonist.
I haven't even tried to make a cartoon since I was about ten.
I don't know if this counts anyway, since I didn't draw it (you don't want to see my attempt at drawing anything.. trust me.)
But cartoons are the only appropriate settings for the words of our President.
Listen to his latest speech- Countering Violent Extremism. It could inspire a whole comic book.

"You Can't Expect ISIS Not To Kill People"

Do you remember learning, for the first time, that people kill people? I do.

I talked to two people, today, who think that beheading Christians and burning pilots alive in cages (overseas) is just fine.

Two guys from my work. One is my friend... almost more than anyone else there. The other one sits in an office and supervises people.

I can't get over it.

I'd just seen these pictures:

I was so angry (at ISIS), I was shaking. And when people see that you're angry, it doesn't help you convince them. The office guy laughed, told my friend, "She's a woman, you know she's gonna win." Then, "But that doesn't make her right."

"That's all they've been taught," my friend told me, seriously. "That's what they grew up learning to do."

And I tried to tell him that beheading people and burning them alive in cages goes against everything that makes a person human. EVERYONE has a conscience. I've heard that there's a psychological barrier that makes it really hard to kill a person, the first time. It's innate.

"It's wrong.. in America," he said.

He literally told me that this would only be wrong in America. We don't murder.. because we're Americans.

Muslims in other countries? They have a different background, a different religion. Different standards. So they can just, you know, keep calm and murder on.

It's crazy. But of course, without faith in God, you can't have an objective standard of right and wrong. That's what I should have said. I should have asked him, "So, do you believe in God?" I couldn't figure out a way to work that in between Friend Guy's arguments and Office Guy's loud laughter.

I wish we would bomb ISIS and wipe them up off of God's green earth so they can't slaughter and rape innocent people any more. I said so. Maybe it's wrong. Ann Voskamp wrote this

http://www.aholyexperience.com/2015/02/the-wake-up-call-to-the-church-that-is-isis-whos-answering/

about praying for ISIS as well as their victims. If you want to read a good, encouraging, Christlike article about ISIS, I suggest you click that red x on the upper righthand corner and head straight over to her blog because I'm not even thinking about praying for these people right now. I'm just pessimistic enough to think that there is no hope for them. None. I want them gone. Dead.

"If you were in a fight with another girl in your apartment, and I'd never been there, and had never met her, would it be right for me to break in and beat her up?" he asked me.

If she were chopping my head off. YES. IT WOULD BE RIGHT. IT WOULD BE RIGHT TO BREAK INTO MY APARTMENT AND BEAT SOMEONE UP THAT YOU DON'T KNOW, WHO IS CHOPPING MY HEAD OFF. This is not a fistfight. THIS IS LINING PEOPLE UP IN THE SAND AND CHOPPING THEIR HEADS OFF.

They were common laborers. Their crime? Christianity.

"They could have fought back" -the next thing he said to me.

Really?

I wasn't informed enough to argue, except hypothetically. ISIS is a big group. I told him that I was sure that each of these men was attacked and kidnapped by more than one terrorist. On the march to the sand? It's actually kind of hard to fight a man who's holding a knife to your throat.

Then I read the story, and there's this (http://www.foxnews.com/world/2015/02/16/video-purports-to-show-isis-militants-beheading-christian-hostages/)

"Walham secured his visa in late 2013. He arrived months before militias seized the capital Tripoli in August 2014. He found work as a plumber in the coastal city of Sirte, which was largely destroyed during the war and was the hometown of ousted Libyan leader Moammar Gadhafi.

It was there that Walham was kidnapped on Dec. 28. Six days later, gunmen seized another 13 Egyptian Christians from Sirte in a targeted raid on a housing compound for laborers.

Abanoub Ishaq, a 19-year-old worker from el-Aour, was there the night the militants burst in just before dawn, knocking on doors with a list of names. Those who answered were hauled away, Ishaq said. He managed to evade capture by remaining silent after receiving a phone call from a Muslim neighbor who warned him not to open the door because militants were searching for Christians.

"We heard nothing but my friends' screams, then they were silenced," he told The Associated Press."

But let's just say they could have fought back. Let's just pretend for a moment that they could have escaped if they had tried a little harder. That they thought it was their Christian duty to die for their faith, quietly. I guess their murderers have full impunity, then. I guess that should be a basis for judgment in murder cases from now on. "Could your victim have escaped you if they had fought a little harder? Yes? Okay, then! No prison time whatsoever and we'll reimburse your court costs! We're so sorry for the inconvenience! Case dismissed!"

I didn't convince either of the men I was talking to. But listen to me. I'm discouraged about this because people aren't talking about it, they don't seem to care. Like we shouldn't bother about people in Iraq, Syria and Libya. Things are just different there, and it's never going to affect us.

I'm not naïve enough to hop along with my happy little life, thinking that nothing bad will ever happen to me because I'm an American and that makes me safe and comfy and happy hop skippy forever. This is the kind of evil world we AMERICANS live in- and you're stupid if you think we can just stay out of it, just stay out of that little none-of-our-business fistfight going on over there in Iraq, and Syria, and Libya, and be perfectly safe forever. You're stupid.

Being a Christian doesn't mean you'll be safe forever either (obviously). (See pictures above). God is not interested in making sure that you, personally, get to sit in front of your TV eating popcorn until 2072.

I feel guilty about my comfortable little life. I can't really enjoy it anymore, because I keep thinking about these people, who hadn't done anything to deserve being brutally murdered, anymore than you or I have. Sometimes I imagine what it would be like to be just moments away from being beheaded or burned alive. I'm not a brave person.

And it makes me sick to see the silly things that a lot of people are outraged about, rather than this.  Like animal rights and the rights of the earth (whatever THAT's supposed to mean). Catcalling. Women getting offended when men comment on their looks. That's why I wrote the last post on food rights, although I thought it was funny at the time. I walked into Walmart and they were playing a propaganda video on all the TVs about the rights of Mother Earth, our beloved nurturer and sustainer.

What about HUMAN rights? Since when did HUMANS become less important than dolphins, rocks and trees? So, since we're American, we can close our eyes to the horrible things happening to non-American HUMANS? "It's not our fight," they say.

It will become our fight one day- but then, it will be too late.

I know, it's a lot to ask- American soldiers, go over there and get those bad men. But soldiers surely know that they may have to fight. I'm planning to go to a (semi-dangerous) place to help kids. So I don't feel that bad about saying that other people should go on an even more important mission (who kind of chose that life). Honestly? I feel like we should all do something to help people who haven't been given as much. Is that crazy?

I don't want to just sit around and watch the show. 

And then there's God, and words of wisdom I heard Dennis Prager say, refreshing after the morally relativistic lies.

"God's primary expectation of us is to treat each other with goodness and justice. Fighting evil is directly tied to that."

Sometimes I listen to Conservative Talk and I want to just shout AMEN! And sometimes I do it.

Thank you, Dennis Prager. You are one of the few voices of reason in my lopsided crazy depressing world full of lopsided crazy depressing people. Because seeing people shut their little sleepy eyes in the face of horrendous evil is more depressing to me than the evil itself. Well, that's about all I have to say. I owe you something funny (or, encouraging?) next. It's a beautiful world full of daisies and butterflies. Good night.

Food Rights

My friends, I have come here today to speak to you about a very important topic. 

It's 2015, and rights are rising in America. Yes, that's right. America is righting itself. It is finally breaking free from its blighted, rightless past.

Oh, we've had the Bill of Rights. The inalienables. You call those rights? HA! Stone-Age rights, that's what they were. The right of free speech, the right to peaceably assemble. They're barely even rights. They're practically wrongs.

NOW, we're starting to see RIGHTS. Rights for animals. Rights for the earth. It's a start. We're not even CLOSE to where we should be, but it IS a start.

This morning, I would like to talk to you about a portion of our society that endures unthinkable violence and insult every single day. I would like to talk to you about the inalienable rights of Food.

This morning, I stand before you, filled with shame for the hard-hearted citizens of this abhorrent land. For centuries- CENTURIES, my friends! Our food has had no protection WHATSOEVER. Think of the wilted lettuce. Think of the cooked macaroni left out at room temperature! Think of the hamburgers, rotting in McDonald's trash bins!

And physical comfort is just the beginning. How would YOU feel if YOU only had physical comfort?

Now, I would like you to close your eyes and imagine this scenario. You're in a box. It's warm and dry. Nothing is poking you, or scratching your skin. You're not in any pain.

But every day, people tell you exactly how they're planning to kill you. They discuss it right in front of you. When you give a start, or let a look of fear creep into your eyes, they laugh at you.

Now you know how the potato in your cupboard feels.

No. I don't want to assume. I would rather think that my distinguished audience is above such things. I'll say, now you know how the potato in your NEIGHBOR'S cupboard feels. You know- that bulky neighbor with the frizzy yellow hair. She looks like just the type to threaten her food and then laugh about it.

We're going to talk about hate speech right now. Are there any children in the audience? Yes, I see them. Please take your children to the back hallway, where we are providing several options of politically correct, diversity-oriented childcare. Are all children removed? Thank you.

I would like to know if you remember the hate-spewing hate fiends that you used to go to elementary school with. I don't want to shock you, but there's one phrase they used which I have to focus on in particular.

Cross my heart and hope to die and stew and fry.  

Ladies and gentlemen, genderfree and never-gendered, THIS is what we are fighting against.

We often don't think about the things that may be said, constantly, very near to us, in the privacy of our neighbor's homes. But we must think about them. We must keep the awareness, the horror alive. This hate speech STILL goes on. Every day. Right here in America… right here in Greenville, South Carolina. Your neighbor's children? They probably say things like that every day. Sing-song voices, flippant words- CRUEL words that only mock the death and destruction which will come to the contents of their parents' refrigerator.

Let's talk about labels for just a moment. My friends, I cannot- I CANNOT believe that we still have labels, in this SO-CALLED CIVILIZED nation.

Would YOU want "high-fructose corn syrup" plastered on YOUR forehead?

The sticky residue that is left behind, eternally, only adds insult to injury.

I know this is painful, but we have to face the facts. When people talk about food, what do they say? Someone help me.

Taste! Yes. Taste. That's exactly right.

Do they discuss its personality? Oh no. Admire its intelligence? Not them. Do they list its likes and dislikes? NO. THEY DON'T.

They talk about its TASTE. The pleasure that it gives to their slimy tongues. As though THAT is all that matters.

It's actually frightening. We who are enlightened know- the way we treat the weakest is the way we will one day be treated.

Do you want to be constantly degraded, with no reprieve?

Well, it is degrading. To reduce food, in all of its individuality and intelligence, to TASTE! Just taste, that's all. As though its amazing internal qualities simply did not exist. As though they never existed.

I want to shout from the housetops- You can pretend a ravioli does not have a memory! But one day, it will forget YOU!

We're in the trenches, friends. Those of you standing in front of the grocery stores, protesting? Thank you. Those of you who write "Pickles Have Feelings Too" on signs? We are grateful. We CANNOT afford to spare ANY effort in this great and worthy cause.

We must fight. Fight!

Yesterday, after I delivered this lecture in Atlanta, I went to an Ihop to gaze upon the victims. I saw a pancake lying, helplessly, on the plate of a man whose shirt was half untucked. This subhuman hefted great blobs of fat on each arm. They wobbled with every motion. This monster- MONSTER! just wafted a deadly fork up in the air. Its four tines glinted in the sinister light of a green-shaded lamp. And then he stabbed that pancake. He stabbed it.

Excuse me for a moment.

Yes, he stabbed it. It glistened in the light, as though its syrup had little tears mixed up in it. And I watched him stab that pancake, as though he wanted to make sure it had NO LIFE LEFT in its poor, tortured little body.

My friends, that pancake has inspired me. I shall name it Libby. Libby could not be with us today. Libby: we will never forget you.

But one day, Libby the pancake, you will look out from the gastrointestinal realms of a half-human fiend, and you will look out upon liberty. Yes, you will see liberty throughout the land. For food that was once in the gravest danger will then be free from any threat of harm.

For Libby's sake, we must press on. Please, help me make that dream a reality. For Libby the pancake. For food, everywhere.

Thank you.

Kayla Jean Mueller

I was really distressed to learn that Kayla Mueller, an American hostage, has been killed by ISIS. She was a humanitarian aid worker who was trying to help suffering kids in Syria- obviously a brave and compassionate lady. I wish that I could have known her. I would have tried to talk her into going somewhere else, somewhere safer, where kids were suffering just as much. But I would never, ever have blamed her for doing what she felt like she needed to do. As I heard someone doing on talk radio today.

I can't imagine the pain her family must be feeling right now.

She was an American. I hope that her death will be avenged. That President Obama will see his way clear to blowing ISIS to bits. I have my doubts. As Susan in Rilla of Ingleside would say, a pretty President!! But it looks like he is taking the first step toward war effort against them, so we shall see.

In the mean time, he should be apologizing to Kayla's parents for not rescuing their precious daughter when he had the chance. For the raid last year that was delayed... until it was too late. For being unwilling to pay a ransom to save her life. I know, we don't negotiate with terrorists. But guess what? We already have.

I didn't know about Kayla before today. She has inspired me. I wonder how many other people will try to carry on her work, helping the suffering. Because we know, as she said, that we have been given so much. 

In whatever way we can do it... it's the right thing to do.

Thought Edits

I have a problem.

I already confessed to being overly nostalgic. If I go on like this, my blog will become one long-drawn-out confession- with one hundred amendments. You'd read it, though, because you like reading people's confessions. I know you. If you had your way, you'd be a priest behind a little booth, listening to people's darkest secrets all day long. You'd be in Full Time Priestly Ministry, just so you could.

Well, that's too bad, because my problem (this problem) is only that I edit my blog posts too much. But it really is awful. I look at my stats and the views are MOSTLY Android. The VAST MAJORITY are. (Android= me.)

By the way, I can't tell if you, specifically, read my blog. So don't worry. By the way, I like it when people read my blog (although I don't really like it when they talk to me about it). So why were you worried anyway?

I wrote a poem about the Unknown (Known) Soldier last Tuesday, and I was still editing it on Saturday. I'm still not happy with it. My meter, rhyme and the lengths of my lines are all wrong. While I can shout "POETIC LICENSE", the truth is, I don't really know what I'm doing, and so, I just do whatever I want. It doesn't sound forced, at least. But it IS very sentimental. But- I'M very sentimental. Today I watched people proposing on T.V. and IT MADE ME CRY. I DON'T EVEN WANT TO GET MARRIED. AND PEOPLE PROPOSING... MAKES ME CRY.

I have decided not to edit this post once. I will post it and that's that. An unedited post- that will be my punishment for overediting.

My thoughts have also been edited recently. A lot. I'm thankful, because when I think my own thoughts, they're almost always wrong. Exaggerated, distorted, or flat-out lies.

I'm taking a Bible class (online, with Regent University) that has been really helpful to me. It's called The Making of the Christian Mind, and it's about the Christian worldview. I'm learning- through this class, my pastor, and even more through experience- how much I need to be "renewing my mind" with God's Word. I say I believe all the things I'm supposed to believe: about God, myself, the Devil, life. Of course I say that. But the things that I Actually Think are often very different.

I've been struggling with discouragement and even depression for a while. Because I was thinking my own thoughts. Plain and simple.

Something Dr. Mark Minnick said one time was a great encouragement to me. I can't remember his exact words, but he told us that we are pleasure loving people, and we should read the Bible for pleasure. It was almost like: it's okay. There's nothing wrong with that.

I know there's a lot of feel-good Christianity floating around these days. And I don't agree with the Joel and Victoria Osteens of the world. (Specifically of America. I think it's almost exclusively an American-Christian attitude.) Because the Christian life IS hard, and it's all about God- it's not all about us. So it makes me feel like it's wrong to try to enjoy Christian things, or to make them easier. I must be a soldier marching forward. Stalwartly.

I love to have fun, read good books, watch movies, listen to music. So I just feel conflicted-the things I want to do aren't the things I should do, and it's hard to resist the fun things when I just view Christian things as duty.

Now that I've said that, I hate it, because if you had told me that reading the Bible and praying is  duty, I would have been the first to contradict you. It's not duty, we do it because we love God. Because we want to have a relationship with Him. But I do think of it as duty, often. Like a checklist item, and I'm-a-bad-person-if-I-don't.

Meditation is especially hard. I've heard (or had) lots of ideas. Carry a verse around on a notecard. Think about a verse you've memorized every time you pass the same spot. Carry an object like a pebble in your pocket to remind you. Read it and think about it at the top of the hour, or on all your breaks.

But, remembering to do it is hard, and actually doing it is even harder. Say you run into your most irritating coworker at 12:58. He tells you in so many words that you didn't do your job right. You snap back at him. Do you read your verse 2 minutes later, at the top of the hour? You're much better than me if you do.

I found an easier way. I do struggle with the idea of making these things easy. But I'm thankful for Pastor Minnick's words because (as I know he is a very wise person) I can see that it's okay to enjoy the Bible. It's okay to make it easy and fun to study it. It's okay to go to my favorite spot in the park to pray when I look forward to it all day, and I know most of that is just looking forward to being in that spot. I think he also said that he got coffee with lots of whipped cream and drank it while he read the Bible in the mornings. The hard part is getting-going. Do it, do it in an easier way, but ultimately because you love God.

I feel kind of snotty when I talk about my job, sometimes. It's like, HAHA, I get candy and you don't. I'm really so fortunate to be able to clean mindlessly and listen to anything I want. I can basically educate myself in any subject, listen to fiction, or listen to my favorite music, and I’m earning money at the same time.

But the Bible is more profitable than anything else, and I need it. Desperately. I just got rid of Spotify because it was an almost-impossible choice. Endless music of all kinds versus the Bible.

Now, I've been listening to Ephesians 1-2 on repeat, and it's been so, so good. I think if I do it every day, I'll have it memorized by the end of the week. I really haven't realized how much God has given me in salvation. These things certainly weren't included in any of my liar-thoughts. Listen to this:

Blessed in Christ with every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places

Chosen in Him before the foundation of the world

Predestined in love for adoption as (a daughter) through Jesus Christ

Given redemption through His blood and the forgiveness of my trespasses

Grace lavished upon me

The mystery of His will made known to me

Obtained an inheritance

Predestined according to the purpose of him who works all things according to the counsel of His will

Sealed with the promised Holy Spirit who is the guarantee of my inheritance until I acquire possession of it

Called to hope

He has immeasurable greatness of power toward me (resurrection power)

Loved with a great love

Made alive together with Christ

Saved by grace through faith- the gift of God

Raised up with him and seated in heavenly places in Christ Jesus

His workmanship

Created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand

Once far off, brought near by the blood of Christ

Peace with God

The dividing wall of hostility broken down

Reconciled to God by Christ through the cross

Access in one Spirit to the Father

No longer strangers and aliens- fellow citizens with the saints and members of the household of God

Being built together into a dwelling place for God by the Spirit

The best part? I've actually been able to talk to people in a cheerful way lately. I have often felt very discouraged over BEING discouraging. I really can't be fakely happy, at all. Now, with the knowledge of everything God has done for me- with thankfulness over it- I don't have to be fake about it.

There will be hard days, again. But if I'm listening to God's thoughts, instead of thinking my own- I can get through them with a smile. Maybe with some encouraging words for you. That's my job too- encouraging you- and I certainly don't want God to fire me for slacking. 

The Known Soldier

(By me. My poetry is anything but perfect, but I hope you like it. :-)

They call you unknown, but I knew you.        
Knew you’d stifle the flare of my temper
With that lopsided grin, every time.
Knew you’d stay with me, babies and bills

Shovel the snow heaping up in December
Hang knotted ropes for our son to climb,
Puzzle over our daughter’s frills.

I knew the way your shoulders slumped.
You were young to face a hostile world
But you’d go out again, my ribbons on your lance.

Nights, you’d get your violin from where it hung.
I knew the black sky where white stars swirled
We’d put our babies down, and then we’d dance.
Hero of my romance, I knew you.

They call you unknown, but I knew you.
Knew when you held me and the ceiling swung close
Dizzy, I’d laugh, and you’d never let me fall.
Knew, holding your hand, I'd be safe
From growling dogs and flapping crows.

I knew you’d try to make me catch a ball
And when I was too young, you wouldn’t chafe
You’d say, “Someday, son,” with a lopsided grin
And walk me to the park instead.

You’d let me chase ducks, stand on the bank and laugh,
Watch as they dipped their slippy heads in.
Then you’d carry me home to my cozy bed
And stuff my window against the draft.
Guardian of my childhood, I knew you.

They call you unknown, but I knew you.
Knew all of your secrets. Once I blackmailed you
But you couldn’t hold a grudge for long.


I knew you’d fight bullies who called me names
And stole my lunch. You’d share yours, too.

I knew at night you’d play that song
We’d laugh and whirl around. We danced before you danced
With any of your flames.


I knew where to go when I couldn’t work my math
Do you know everything? I would ask.
You’d tug my braid with a lopsided grin.
I think, without you, I wouldn’t have passed.

I watched as you tackled each growing-up task
Freedom from our parents, the fight to fit in.
Role model of my teens, I knew you.

They call you unknown, but I knew you.
Knew you’d run to me with every bump and bruise
Until you didn’t want my kisses, and I cried.


But I knew you’d still come, when no one would see
To tell me your troubles. You wanted a truce
With the one or two enemies of your life
"I’ll be friends with you, if you'll be friends with me."

I knew your favorite meal, and the one in which I'd sit
Long after dark. Relentless, to the last lima bean.
I knew your stubborn side, but it made me glad
For you faced the fight, determined, with a lopsided grin.
I knew you'd send me roses, make me feel like a queen,
On your last day of school. I was proud, a little sad.
Son of my youth, I knew you.

They call you unknown, but I knew you.
Knew your heartbeat and the tempo of your breath.
Knew your every thought. I watched you that first day
They rocked you in a cradle. You'd do the same,
Hold two babies of your own before you faced your death.

You heard your country calling, and marched into the fray
Saw terrible things, and lost your grin.
But in the grimy trenches, I also called your name.
Child of my heart, I knew you.
Before the world was formed, I knew you.