My prayer was, "Lord, Please give me joy in the mundane tasks--the toilet cleaning, the clothes folding." So, God answered in a wonderful way--by giving me a husband who does all the mowing, and enjoys order so he picks up bits of trash and paper and lint, and loads the dishwasher and makes coffee. God also has a sense of humor, and showed unto me that the dishwashing liquid named, "Joy" works just as well on spots on clothing, cleaning toilets, and mopping the floor. And it is cheaper than "Dawn". I suspect it is made by the same people. The bottles are shaped exactly the same.
I have a towel that I have accidentally turning into an astronomy picture of the universe. Thanks to a splash of bleach there, and a hole here and the wear and tear of living a long life as a fluffy, then rag, it reminds me of pictures of the universe on the website, "Astronomy Picture of the Day". Expanding gases via bleach.
This month, with our middle son at rotc camp, we are experiencing "empty nest" and the dishwasher reveals a house of lovers: two cups, two bowls, two spoons, two mugs, two plates.
Thank you, Lord, for joy and jobs, accidents in laundry, and a dishwasher load that makes me blush. Thank you for my lover. His curly chest and body hair reminds me of the curly strands that arch out from the surface of the sun. His curlies can be found like gems upon the sheets. They tickle my nose when I give him a raspberry. I don't know why they call it a raspberry because it sounds more like a trombone.
Thursday, July 19, 2007
Monday, July 16, 2007
My Day
Last Friday night, my husband, Bob, and I attended a family reunion where one of Bob's brothers was surprised with an early birthday party for his fiftieth. As Bob is one of eight siblings, who all made an effort to assemble for the surprise, plus their spouses, one or more children, cousins and their children, at one point I counted over twenty-five relatives. One of Bob's cousins asked me if I still worked or volunteered up at the school, but I said no. She asked if I still helped with that old lady across the street? No, she died years ago. With all my boys up and out, and one married, one in his own apartment, and our middle son away at ROTC camp for a month, maybe Bob's cousin was wondering what I do all day. This dear lady works outside her home, and other sisters-in-law run businesses out of their homes. Thankfully, Bob supports us. Our house is small, but small means easy to clean. And I do have the luxury of lots of free time. I thought it would be interesting to keep track of exactly what I do all day.
Midnight to 1am: emailed folks from my email address book that know our middle son, and are curious about how he is doing at ROTC camp in Washington state. James had called us a week ago and said he needed prayer. I got the impression he had one more try to pass the night land navigation course and since it did not get dark until 10pm, it was 3am before they got back to the barracks for a little sleep. I had emailed different ones that know James a week ago, so when we got a call from him Sunday night at 10:45pm our time, I thought I'd give an update that he did indeed pass the night navigation course on that third try with flying colors. And since James enjoyed the verses I mailed him, and he is finally receiving mail, I got another letter ready to mail.
1am to 6:15am slept with two bathroom breaks
6:15am made coffee for Bob, fixed his pb&j sandwich for lunch, folded clothes
6:45am kiss goodbye to Bob and walked him to the truck, folded more clothes, re-wrote the errands and want list
7am set more laundry going in the washer and dryer. Answered emails to niece in Indonesia, son in Dayton, and the neighborhood crimewatch group. ate breakfast, started on pile of vitamins.
8am Listening to WBAP started bread dough. Ground oats in coffee grinder.
One cup water with one tablespoon of yeast from the powdered yeast jar, two tablespoons of brown sugar stirred and set aside. One cup water and one cup dry powdered milk, six more tablespoons of brown sugar, one tablespoon sea salt, one half cup of olive oil, the cup of ground oats, white flour from the freezer, one fourth cup of molasses, in a big mixing bowl. Once the yeast mixture is foamy, add to the flour mixture and add more white flour until you can knead it. This will make four huge loaves. Today two of the loaves are plain, and one divided into rolls, and one loaf of cinnamon bread.
9:30am finished kneading. Mopped floor where I was messy with a dusting of flour.
9:45am bath time. Answered emails from bob at work, son in Dayton, listening to Mark Davis on WBAP, let the cat in and out four times, hung up a load of shirts from the dryer, set another load going. Put up the NASA tv website so I can catch the ISS coverage.
10:15am watching Clayton Anderson on the ISS coverage stow stuff while Mark Davis debates the evils of bottled water. I remember how my grandparents had a water softener and how they would bottle water in old milk jugs for making coffee.
10:30am finish choking down vitamins. Burped bowl of bread dough. Making bread is a six hour commitment. Assembling, kneading, cleaning up, punching down the dough, burping the lid, buttering loaf pans--glass are my favorites. Weighing, measuring into one pound loaves.
What haven't I done today? Still have not made the bed. Front yard needs weeding, but mosquitoes are my excuse. I want to write a note to Pastor Mark because their CO2 alarm saved their lives.
10:42am marveling at the mowed backyard. Bob did a great job with his new mower which I suggested he assemble in the living room and he said I'd remember it wrong.
10:44am Wondered why Bob did not marry better if his wife nags him about assembling a new mower from a clean box in the air conditioned comfort of our living room. Bob gets drenched in sweat when he mows. Wish we could afford a yardman.
11am Mary K. called. We got caught up on our weekends. She lets her husband assemble stuff inside where it is cooler, too.
11:25am Son from Dayton called on his lunch hour to answer my questions about his brother at ROTC camp, and tell me about how cute our grandbaby is. She is not wild about green beans. She shudders when fed a spoonful. Her Daddy used to do that as a baby, too. My nephews would eat string beans from a can as toddlers, but babyfood greenbeans---yuck. I folded more clothes and unloaded the dishwasher.
11:45am Lunch with Mary K. We also shopped at Petsmart and Greens. Can't wait to tell Bob about her grandson's body art with a permanent marker.
2:45pm Shaped bread dough into loaves and put in the pans and set in the oven to rise again. Four loaves rising and sweat dripping off my nose. again. Listening to Dr. Laura.
3:15pm answered emails, wrote thank you emails, cleaned email box, filed some and forwarded some to show to Bob to his home email.
4pm Dr. Laura is over, so I pick up the mail. Letter from niece in Indonesia and a picture of her husband and the kids. Her kids enjoy my letters. I will put writing letters on my to do list for tomorrow. Folded clothes, put away clothes, hung up another load.
4:14pm off to Kroger to hunt for apples for Bob's lunches. Found instead some steaks for supper, strawberries, and his gluc-condrotin. I should have picked up the better tasting apples (pink ladies) at Greens today.
4:50pm Home just in time to hear the phone ring---its Bob calling to say he is headed to the train. I promise fresh, hot bread when he gets home at 6:10pm. I set timer for 30 minutes to let the bread rise just a little more. Then bake, and fix Bob's supper. Searched for the video of the toddler who used permanent marker on baby brother, as I had told Mary about it.
5:12pm Found the pictures on the website after googling, and sent to Mary K.
5:20pm Quickverse searched "life of God" but it is only found in Ephesians 4:18
Listed the contrasts from the section Pastor Mark preached yesterday from verses 17-24. Quickverse searched "likeness of God"
5:36pm oven started, saw that Bob had emailed a bid home for me to see
5:50pm email to folks we saw at the party Friday night. Checked on bread baking, set table, unloaded dishwasher.
6:10pm Bob came home and munched on the strawberries while I cooked the steaks. I think he liked the homemade bread.
7pm Cleaned the kitchen
7:22pm done. dishwasher humming. three loaves of bread put in baggies.
8:05pm Wrote out verses I had quickverse searched for James. The word "bless" occurs 533 times in 473 verses. Started typing up My Day from notes I jotted down throughout the day. and now its 9:13pm. Time for bed.
Midnight to 1am: emailed folks from my email address book that know our middle son, and are curious about how he is doing at ROTC camp in Washington state. James had called us a week ago and said he needed prayer. I got the impression he had one more try to pass the night land navigation course and since it did not get dark until 10pm, it was 3am before they got back to the barracks for a little sleep. I had emailed different ones that know James a week ago, so when we got a call from him Sunday night at 10:45pm our time, I thought I'd give an update that he did indeed pass the night navigation course on that third try with flying colors. And since James enjoyed the verses I mailed him, and he is finally receiving mail, I got another letter ready to mail.
1am to 6:15am slept with two bathroom breaks
6:15am made coffee for Bob, fixed his pb&j sandwich for lunch, folded clothes
6:45am kiss goodbye to Bob and walked him to the truck, folded more clothes, re-wrote the errands and want list
7am set more laundry going in the washer and dryer. Answered emails to niece in Indonesia, son in Dayton, and the neighborhood crimewatch group. ate breakfast, started on pile of vitamins.
8am Listening to WBAP started bread dough. Ground oats in coffee grinder.
One cup water with one tablespoon of yeast from the powdered yeast jar, two tablespoons of brown sugar stirred and set aside. One cup water and one cup dry powdered milk, six more tablespoons of brown sugar, one tablespoon sea salt, one half cup of olive oil, the cup of ground oats, white flour from the freezer, one fourth cup of molasses, in a big mixing bowl. Once the yeast mixture is foamy, add to the flour mixture and add more white flour until you can knead it. This will make four huge loaves. Today two of the loaves are plain, and one divided into rolls, and one loaf of cinnamon bread.
9:30am finished kneading. Mopped floor where I was messy with a dusting of flour.
9:45am bath time. Answered emails from bob at work, son in Dayton, listening to Mark Davis on WBAP, let the cat in and out four times, hung up a load of shirts from the dryer, set another load going. Put up the NASA tv website so I can catch the ISS coverage.
10:15am watching Clayton Anderson on the ISS coverage stow stuff while Mark Davis debates the evils of bottled water. I remember how my grandparents had a water softener and how they would bottle water in old milk jugs for making coffee.
10:30am finish choking down vitamins. Burped bowl of bread dough. Making bread is a six hour commitment. Assembling, kneading, cleaning up, punching down the dough, burping the lid, buttering loaf pans--glass are my favorites. Weighing, measuring into one pound loaves.
What haven't I done today? Still have not made the bed. Front yard needs weeding, but mosquitoes are my excuse. I want to write a note to Pastor Mark because their CO2 alarm saved their lives.
10:42am marveling at the mowed backyard. Bob did a great job with his new mower which I suggested he assemble in the living room and he said I'd remember it wrong.
10:44am Wondered why Bob did not marry better if his wife nags him about assembling a new mower from a clean box in the air conditioned comfort of our living room. Bob gets drenched in sweat when he mows. Wish we could afford a yardman.
11am Mary K. called. We got caught up on our weekends. She lets her husband assemble stuff inside where it is cooler, too.
11:25am Son from Dayton called on his lunch hour to answer my questions about his brother at ROTC camp, and tell me about how cute our grandbaby is. She is not wild about green beans. She shudders when fed a spoonful. Her Daddy used to do that as a baby, too. My nephews would eat string beans from a can as toddlers, but babyfood greenbeans---yuck. I folded more clothes and unloaded the dishwasher.
11:45am Lunch with Mary K. We also shopped at Petsmart and Greens. Can't wait to tell Bob about her grandson's body art with a permanent marker.
2:45pm Shaped bread dough into loaves and put in the pans and set in the oven to rise again. Four loaves rising and sweat dripping off my nose. again. Listening to Dr. Laura.
3:15pm answered emails, wrote thank you emails, cleaned email box, filed some and forwarded some to show to Bob to his home email.
4pm Dr. Laura is over, so I pick up the mail. Letter from niece in Indonesia and a picture of her husband and the kids. Her kids enjoy my letters. I will put writing letters on my to do list for tomorrow. Folded clothes, put away clothes, hung up another load.
4:14pm off to Kroger to hunt for apples for Bob's lunches. Found instead some steaks for supper, strawberries, and his gluc-condrotin. I should have picked up the better tasting apples (pink ladies) at Greens today.
4:50pm Home just in time to hear the phone ring---its Bob calling to say he is headed to the train. I promise fresh, hot bread when he gets home at 6:10pm. I set timer for 30 minutes to let the bread rise just a little more. Then bake, and fix Bob's supper. Searched for the video of the toddler who used permanent marker on baby brother, as I had told Mary about it.
5:12pm Found the pictures on the website after googling, and sent to Mary K.
5:20pm Quickverse searched "life of God" but it is only found in Ephesians 4:18
Listed the contrasts from the section Pastor Mark preached yesterday from verses 17-24. Quickverse searched "likeness of God"
5:36pm oven started, saw that Bob had emailed a bid home for me to see
5:50pm email to folks we saw at the party Friday night. Checked on bread baking, set table, unloaded dishwasher.
6:10pm Bob came home and munched on the strawberries while I cooked the steaks. I think he liked the homemade bread.
7pm Cleaned the kitchen
7:22pm done. dishwasher humming. three loaves of bread put in baggies.
8:05pm Wrote out verses I had quickverse searched for James. The word "bless" occurs 533 times in 473 verses. Started typing up My Day from notes I jotted down throughout the day. and now its 9:13pm. Time for bed.
Friday, June 1, 2007
post office
Standing in a long, long line at the post office this morning with a package of items for my granddaughter, a letter of beads for my neice, and a letter each for my great neice and nephew in Indonesia. No clue what postage to put on these items. That is why I am there.
The line lumbers on with the two postal workers moving slower than molasses. One postal employee, “Daniel” (says so on his hand-lettered nameplate) is railing at a customer that the post office is using Fed EX to send out passports. Yes, a postal employee is bad-mouthing his own place of employment. The very next (victim,) customer, in line wants her letter guaranteed for tomorrow, but no doing, as Daniel explains that they cannot guarantee overnight to a PO box. He shows her the fine print on some form, and there is a language cultural issue, so he speaks slowly. Finally, he advises her that she can go to Fed EX but he is not sure if they guarantee overnight to a PO box. I start giggling. And sure enough, this would be the guy I draw in line when its my turn. Here is my side of the conversation as he waited on me and was interrupted by impatient older people who only wanted to know if their letter needed extra postage or for a form:
“please hand cancel this one (bulging letter), beads, eight year old girls don’t like broken plastic beads.”
“these are going to Indonesia, has the post office decided what postage will be to Indonesia?” (90 cents ! it went up six cents )
“no, this package contains no liquid, only baby toys to my granddaughter and I must confess there is a letter inside, so first class?”
“priority mail will be fine, since you says its too heavy for first class, thankyou”
I presented Daniel with a twenty. He asked if it were debit or credit, as he had not seen actual cash yet today, and was trying to be funny. I just stared at him, as I could not come up with a good retort and after I received my change back in my hot little hands, I thanked Daniel for not sending me to Fed EX. Sometimes its hard to keep a straight face at the post office.
The line lumbers on with the two postal workers moving slower than molasses. One postal employee, “Daniel” (says so on his hand-lettered nameplate) is railing at a customer that the post office is using Fed EX to send out passports. Yes, a postal employee is bad-mouthing his own place of employment. The very next (victim,) customer, in line wants her letter guaranteed for tomorrow, but no doing, as Daniel explains that they cannot guarantee overnight to a PO box. He shows her the fine print on some form, and there is a language cultural issue, so he speaks slowly. Finally, he advises her that she can go to Fed EX but he is not sure if they guarantee overnight to a PO box. I start giggling. And sure enough, this would be the guy I draw in line when its my turn. Here is my side of the conversation as he waited on me and was interrupted by impatient older people who only wanted to know if their letter needed extra postage or for a form:
“please hand cancel this one (bulging letter), beads, eight year old girls don’t like broken plastic beads.”
“these are going to Indonesia, has the post office decided what postage will be to Indonesia?” (90 cents ! it went up six cents )
“no, this package contains no liquid, only baby toys to my granddaughter and I must confess there is a letter inside, so first class?”
“priority mail will be fine, since you says its too heavy for first class, thankyou”
I presented Daniel with a twenty. He asked if it were debit or credit, as he had not seen actual cash yet today, and was trying to be funny. I just stared at him, as I could not come up with a good retort and after I received my change back in my hot little hands, I thanked Daniel for not sending me to Fed EX. Sometimes its hard to keep a straight face at the post office.
Friday, May 18, 2007
A letter that helps my attitude because I am the mom of sheepdogs
Subject: Sheep, Wolves, and Sheepdogs
This letter was written by Charles Grennel and his comrades who are veterans of the Global War On Terror. Grennel is an Army Reservist who spent two years in Iraq and was a principal in putting together the first Iraq elections, January of 2005.
It was written to Jill Edwards, a student at the University of
Washington who did not want to honor Medal of Honor winner US MC Colonel Greg Boyington. Ms. Edwards and other students (and faculty) do not think those who serve in the U.S. armed services are good role models.
To: Edwards, Jill (student, UW)
Subject: Sheep, Wolves and Sheepdogs
Miss Edwards, I read of your "student activity" regarding the proposed memorial to Col. Greg Boyington, USMC and a Medal of Honor winner. I suspect you will receive a bellyful of angry e-mails from conservative folks like me.
You may be too young to appreciate fully the sacrifices of generations of servicemen and servicewomen on whose shoulders you and your fellow students stand. I forgive you for the untutored ways of youth and your naivete. It may be that you are, simply, a sheep. There's no dishonor in being a sheep - - as long as you know and accept what you are.
William J. Bennett, in a lecture to the United States Naval Academy November 24, 1997 said: "Most of the people in our society are sheep. They are kind, gentle, productive creatures who can only hurt one another by accident." We may well be in the most violent times in history, but violence is still remarkably rare. This is because most citizens are kind, decent people who are not capable of hurting each other, except by accident or under extreme provocation. They are sheep.
Then there are the wolves and the wolves feed on the sheep without mercy. Do you believe there are wolves out there who will feed on the flock without mercy? You better believe it. There are evil men in this world and they are capable of evil deeds. The moment you forget that or pretend it is not so, you become a sheep. There is no safety in denial.
Then there are sheepdogs and I'm a sheepdog. I live to protect the flock and confront the wolf. If you have no capacity for violence then you are a healthy productive citizen, a sheep. If you have a capacity for violence and no empathy for your fellow citizens, then you have defined an aggressive sociopath, a wolf. But what if you have a capacity for violence, and a deep love for your fellow citizens? What do you have then? A sheepdog, a warrior, someone who is walking the unchartered path. Someone who can walk into the heart of darkness, into the universal human phobia, and walk out unscathed.
We know that the sheep live in denial, that is what makes them sheep. They do not want to believe that there is evil in the world.
They can accept the fact that fires can happen, which is why they want fire extinguishers, fire sprinklers, fire alarms and fire exits throughout their kids' schools. But many of them are outraged at the idea of putting an armed police officer in their kid's school. Our children are thousands of times more likely to be killed or seriously injured by school violence than fire, but the sheep's only response to the possibility of violence is denial. The idea of someone coming to kill or harm their child is just too hard, and so they chose the path of denial.
The sheep generally do not like the sheepdog. He looks a lot like the wolf. He has fangs and the capacity for violence. The difference, though, is that the sheepdog must not, can not and will not ever harm the sheep. Any sheepdog who intentionally harms the lowliest little lamb will be punished and removed. The world cannot work any other way, at least not in a representative democracy or a republic such as ours.
Still, the sheepdog disturbs the sheep. He is a constant reminder that there are wolves in the land. They would prefer that he didn't tell them where to go, or give them traffic tickets, or stand at the ready in our airports, in camouflage fatigues, holding an M-16.
The sheep would much rather have the sheepdog cash in his fangs, spray paint himself white, and go, "Baa." Until the wolf shows up. Then the entire flock tries desperately to hide behind one lonely sheepdog.
The students, the victims, at Columbine High School were big, tough high school students, and under ordinary circumstances they would not have had the time of day for a police officer. They were not bad kids; they just had nothing to say to a cop. When the school was under attack, however, and SWAT teams were clearing the rooms and hallways, the officers had to physically peel those clinging, sobbing kids off of them.
This is how the little lambs feel about their sheepdog when the wolf is at the door. Look at what happened after September 11, 2001 when the wolf pounded hard on the door. Remember how America, more than ever before, felt differently about their law enforcement officers and military personnel? Understand that there is nothing morally superior about being a sheepdog; it is just what you choose to be.
Also understand that a sheepdog is a funny critter: He is always sniffing around out on the perimeter, checking the breeze, barking at things that go bump in the night, and yearning for a righteous battle. That is, the young sheepdogs yearn for a righteous battle. The old sheepdogs are a little older and wiser, but they move to the sound of the guns when needed, right along with the young ones.
Here is how the sheep and the sheepdog think differently. The sheep pretend the wolf will never come, but the sheepdog lives for that day.
After the attacks on September 11, 2001, most of the sheep, that is, most citizens in America said, "Thank God I wasn't on one of those planes." The sheepdogs, the warriors, said, "Dear God, I wish I could have been on one of those planes. Maybe I could have made a difference." You want to be able to make a difference. There is
nothing morally superior about the sheepdog, the warrior, but he does have one real advantage. Only one. And that is that he is able to survive and thrive in an environment that destroys 98 percent of the population.
There was research conducted a few years ago with individuals convicted of violent crimes. These cons were in prison for serious, predatory crimes of violence: assaults, murders and killing law enforcement officers. The vast majority said that they specifically targeted victims by body language: slumped walk, passive behavior and lack of awareness. They chose their victims like big cats do in Africa, when they select one out of the herd that is least able to protect itself.
Some people may be destined to be sheep and others might be genetically primed to be wolves or sheepdogs. But I believe that most people can choose which one they want to be, and I'm proud to say that more and more Americans are choosing to become sheepdogs.
Seven months after the attack on September 11, 2001, Todd Beamer was honored in his hometown of Cranbury, New Jersey. Todd, as you recall, was the man on Flight 93 over Pennsylvania who called on his cell phone to alert an operator from United Airlines about the hijacking. When they learned of the other three passenger planes that had been used as weapons, Todd and the other passengers confronted the terrorist hijackers. In one hour, a transformation occurred among the passengers - athletes, business people and parents -- from sheep to sheepdogs and together they fought the wolves, ultimately saving an unknown number of lives on the ground.
"There is no safety for honest men except by believing all possible evil of evil men." - Edmund Burke. Here is the point I like to emphasize, especially to the thousands of police officers and soldiers I speak to each year. In nature the sheep, real sheep, are born as sheep. Sheepdogs are born that way, and so are wolves. They didn't have a choice.
But you are not a critter. As a human being, you can be whatever you want to be. It is a conscious, moral decision. If you want to be a sheep, then you can be a sheep and that is okay, but you must understand the price you pay. When the wolf comes, you and your loved ones are going to die if there is not a sheepdog there to protect you.
If you want to be a wolf, you can be one, but the sheepdogs are going to hunt you down and you will never have rest, safety, trust or love.
But if you want to be a sheepdog and walk the warrior's path, then you must make a conscious and moral decision every day to dedicate, equip and prepare yourself to thrive in that toxic, corrosive moment when the wolf comes knocking at the door.
This business of being a sheep or a sheepdog is not a yes-no dichotomy. It is not an all-or-nothing, either-or choice. It is a matter of degrees, a continum. On one end is an abject, head-in-the-sand-sheep and on the other end is the ultimate warrior. Few people exist completely on one end or the other. Most of us live somewhere in between.
Since 9-11 almost everyone in America took a step up that continuum, away from denial. The sheep took a few steps toward accepting and appreciating their warriors, and the warriors started taking their job more seriously. Its ok to be a sheep, but do not kick the sheepdog.
Indeed, the sheepdog may just run a little harder, strive to protect a little better and be fully prepared to pay an ultimate price in battle and spirit with the sheep moving from "baa" to "thanks".
We do not call for gifts or freedoms beyond our lot. We just need a small pat on the head, a smile and a thank you to fill the emotional tank which is drained protecting the sheep. And when our number is called by "The Almighty", and day retreats into night, a small prayer before the heavens just may be in order to say thanks for letting you continue to be a sheep. And be grateful for the thousands - - millions - - of American sheepdogs who permit you the freedom to express even bad ideas.
This letter was written by Charles Grennel and his comrades who are veterans of the Global War On Terror. Grennel is an Army Reservist who spent two years in Iraq and was a principal in putting together the first Iraq elections, January of 2005.
It was written to Jill Edwards, a student at the University of
Washington who did not want to honor Medal of Honor winner US MC Colonel Greg Boyington. Ms. Edwards and other students (and faculty) do not think those who serve in the U.S. armed services are good role models.
To: Edwards, Jill (student, UW)
Subject: Sheep, Wolves and Sheepdogs
Miss Edwards, I read of your "student activity" regarding the proposed memorial to Col. Greg Boyington, USMC and a Medal of Honor winner. I suspect you will receive a bellyful of angry e-mails from conservative folks like me.
You may be too young to appreciate fully the sacrifices of generations of servicemen and servicewomen on whose shoulders you and your fellow students stand. I forgive you for the untutored ways of youth and your naivete. It may be that you are, simply, a sheep. There's no dishonor in being a sheep - - as long as you know and accept what you are.
William J. Bennett, in a lecture to the United States Naval Academy November 24, 1997 said: "Most of the people in our society are sheep. They are kind, gentle, productive creatures who can only hurt one another by accident." We may well be in the most violent times in history, but violence is still remarkably rare. This is because most citizens are kind, decent people who are not capable of hurting each other, except by accident or under extreme provocation. They are sheep.
Then there are the wolves and the wolves feed on the sheep without mercy. Do you believe there are wolves out there who will feed on the flock without mercy? You better believe it. There are evil men in this world and they are capable of evil deeds. The moment you forget that or pretend it is not so, you become a sheep. There is no safety in denial.
Then there are sheepdogs and I'm a sheepdog. I live to protect the flock and confront the wolf. If you have no capacity for violence then you are a healthy productive citizen, a sheep. If you have a capacity for violence and no empathy for your fellow citizens, then you have defined an aggressive sociopath, a wolf. But what if you have a capacity for violence, and a deep love for your fellow citizens? What do you have then? A sheepdog, a warrior, someone who is walking the unchartered path. Someone who can walk into the heart of darkness, into the universal human phobia, and walk out unscathed.
We know that the sheep live in denial, that is what makes them sheep. They do not want to believe that there is evil in the world.
They can accept the fact that fires can happen, which is why they want fire extinguishers, fire sprinklers, fire alarms and fire exits throughout their kids' schools. But many of them are outraged at the idea of putting an armed police officer in their kid's school. Our children are thousands of times more likely to be killed or seriously injured by school violence than fire, but the sheep's only response to the possibility of violence is denial. The idea of someone coming to kill or harm their child is just too hard, and so they chose the path of denial.
The sheep generally do not like the sheepdog. He looks a lot like the wolf. He has fangs and the capacity for violence. The difference, though, is that the sheepdog must not, can not and will not ever harm the sheep. Any sheepdog who intentionally harms the lowliest little lamb will be punished and removed. The world cannot work any other way, at least not in a representative democracy or a republic such as ours.
Still, the sheepdog disturbs the sheep. He is a constant reminder that there are wolves in the land. They would prefer that he didn't tell them where to go, or give them traffic tickets, or stand at the ready in our airports, in camouflage fatigues, holding an M-16.
The sheep would much rather have the sheepdog cash in his fangs, spray paint himself white, and go, "Baa." Until the wolf shows up. Then the entire flock tries desperately to hide behind one lonely sheepdog.
The students, the victims, at Columbine High School were big, tough high school students, and under ordinary circumstances they would not have had the time of day for a police officer. They were not bad kids; they just had nothing to say to a cop. When the school was under attack, however, and SWAT teams were clearing the rooms and hallways, the officers had to physically peel those clinging, sobbing kids off of them.
This is how the little lambs feel about their sheepdog when the wolf is at the door. Look at what happened after September 11, 2001 when the wolf pounded hard on the door. Remember how America, more than ever before, felt differently about their law enforcement officers and military personnel? Understand that there is nothing morally superior about being a sheepdog; it is just what you choose to be.
Also understand that a sheepdog is a funny critter: He is always sniffing around out on the perimeter, checking the breeze, barking at things that go bump in the night, and yearning for a righteous battle. That is, the young sheepdogs yearn for a righteous battle. The old sheepdogs are a little older and wiser, but they move to the sound of the guns when needed, right along with the young ones.
Here is how the sheep and the sheepdog think differently. The sheep pretend the wolf will never come, but the sheepdog lives for that day.
After the attacks on September 11, 2001, most of the sheep, that is, most citizens in America said, "Thank God I wasn't on one of those planes." The sheepdogs, the warriors, said, "Dear God, I wish I could have been on one of those planes. Maybe I could have made a difference." You want to be able to make a difference. There is
nothing morally superior about the sheepdog, the warrior, but he does have one real advantage. Only one. And that is that he is able to survive and thrive in an environment that destroys 98 percent of the population.
There was research conducted a few years ago with individuals convicted of violent crimes. These cons were in prison for serious, predatory crimes of violence: assaults, murders and killing law enforcement officers. The vast majority said that they specifically targeted victims by body language: slumped walk, passive behavior and lack of awareness. They chose their victims like big cats do in Africa, when they select one out of the herd that is least able to protect itself.
Some people may be destined to be sheep and others might be genetically primed to be wolves or sheepdogs. But I believe that most people can choose which one they want to be, and I'm proud to say that more and more Americans are choosing to become sheepdogs.
Seven months after the attack on September 11, 2001, Todd Beamer was honored in his hometown of Cranbury, New Jersey. Todd, as you recall, was the man on Flight 93 over Pennsylvania who called on his cell phone to alert an operator from United Airlines about the hijacking. When they learned of the other three passenger planes that had been used as weapons, Todd and the other passengers confronted the terrorist hijackers. In one hour, a transformation occurred among the passengers - athletes, business people and parents -- from sheep to sheepdogs and together they fought the wolves, ultimately saving an unknown number of lives on the ground.
"There is no safety for honest men except by believing all possible evil of evil men." - Edmund Burke. Here is the point I like to emphasize, especially to the thousands of police officers and soldiers I speak to each year. In nature the sheep, real sheep, are born as sheep. Sheepdogs are born that way, and so are wolves. They didn't have a choice.
But you are not a critter. As a human being, you can be whatever you want to be. It is a conscious, moral decision. If you want to be a sheep, then you can be a sheep and that is okay, but you must understand the price you pay. When the wolf comes, you and your loved ones are going to die if there is not a sheepdog there to protect you.
If you want to be a wolf, you can be one, but the sheepdogs are going to hunt you down and you will never have rest, safety, trust or love.
But if you want to be a sheepdog and walk the warrior's path, then you must make a conscious and moral decision every day to dedicate, equip and prepare yourself to thrive in that toxic, corrosive moment when the wolf comes knocking at the door.
This business of being a sheep or a sheepdog is not a yes-no dichotomy. It is not an all-or-nothing, either-or choice. It is a matter of degrees, a continum. On one end is an abject, head-in-the-sand-sheep and on the other end is the ultimate warrior. Few people exist completely on one end or the other. Most of us live somewhere in between.
Since 9-11 almost everyone in America took a step up that continuum, away from denial. The sheep took a few steps toward accepting and appreciating their warriors, and the warriors started taking their job more seriously. Its ok to be a sheep, but do not kick the sheepdog.
Indeed, the sheepdog may just run a little harder, strive to protect a little better and be fully prepared to pay an ultimate price in battle and spirit with the sheep moving from "baa" to "thanks".
We do not call for gifts or freedoms beyond our lot. We just need a small pat on the head, a smile and a thank you to fill the emotional tank which is drained protecting the sheep. And when our number is called by "The Almighty", and day retreats into night, a small prayer before the heavens just may be in order to say thanks for letting you continue to be a sheep. And be grateful for the thousands - - millions - - of American sheepdogs who permit you the freedom to express even bad ideas.
Quickverse word searches
One of my favorite ways to study the Bible is using Quickverse's word search. My dear husband showed me how to enter a word with a star (for example: lov*) and find all the instances of the words love, loving, loves, lovingkindness, and loved. And the search box tells neat statistics. There are 744 occurrences in 648 verses of the words for love. I was surprised to discover that the first use of the word "love" does not occur until the story of God telling Abraham to sacrifice his son, Isaac. Genesis 21:1 "Take now your son, your only son whom you love, Isaac...and offer him there as a burnt offering on one of the mountains of which I tell you." And I was also surprised to see the word, "worship" also making its debut here in this same story just a few verses later, Genesis 21:5 "Stay here with the donkey (Abraham is speaking to his servants) and I and the lad will go yonder and we will worship and return to you." Abraham proclaims in these instructions that he believes God will resurrect or resuscitate Isaac. I word searched "worship" and discovered that it occurs 112 times in 107 verses.
Can the word, "love" be substituted for worship? Is worship love? Or, is love something that compels us to worship? "Worship" is a church word that is hard to wrap my mind around. How would I explain worship to a child? What does worship mean exactly? Looking through the verses where the word, "worship" occurs, I see half of the verses seem to be warnings what NOT to worship. For example, in Exodus 20:5 "You shall not worship them (idols) or serve them, for I the Lord your God am a jealous God, visiting the iniquity of the fathers on the children, on the third and fourth generations of those who hate Me.
Wow---another rabbit trail. Is this verse saying that you either worship God or you hate Him? Maybe that is why God commanded us to love the Lord our God with all our heart and mind and soul and spirit and energy in order to save us from ourselves.
As Christians we take such comfort from the promises that in the future, as Psalm 66:4 says: "All the earth will worship Thee and sing praises..." So what is worship? What does it look like? Is worship love, awe, reverence, respect, admiration and obedience?
Psalm 95:6 "Come let us worship and bow down. Let us kneel before the Lord our Maker--for He is our God and we are the people of His pasture, sheep of His Hand..."
This reminds me of a wonderful analogy someone sent me recently which helped put into words my attitude as a mom of sons in the military. How some are sheep, and some are wolves, and some are sheepdogs. I will double check the author and names and reprint it next. I hope it encourages other parents and spouses of our military and policemen.
Can the word, "love" be substituted for worship? Is worship love? Or, is love something that compels us to worship? "Worship" is a church word that is hard to wrap my mind around. How would I explain worship to a child? What does worship mean exactly? Looking through the verses where the word, "worship" occurs, I see half of the verses seem to be warnings what NOT to worship. For example, in Exodus 20:5 "You shall not worship them (idols) or serve them, for I the Lord your God am a jealous God, visiting the iniquity of the fathers on the children, on the third and fourth generations of those who hate Me.
Wow---another rabbit trail. Is this verse saying that you either worship God or you hate Him? Maybe that is why God commanded us to love the Lord our God with all our heart and mind and soul and spirit and energy in order to save us from ourselves.
As Christians we take such comfort from the promises that in the future, as Psalm 66:4 says: "All the earth will worship Thee and sing praises..." So what is worship? What does it look like? Is worship love, awe, reverence, respect, admiration and obedience?
Psalm 95:6 "Come let us worship and bow down. Let us kneel before the Lord our Maker--for He is our God and we are the people of His pasture, sheep of His Hand..."
This reminds me of a wonderful analogy someone sent me recently which helped put into words my attitude as a mom of sons in the military. How some are sheep, and some are wolves, and some are sheepdogs. I will double check the author and names and reprint it next. I hope it encourages other parents and spouses of our military and policemen.
Isaiah 66:13 " As one whom his mother comforts, so I will comfort you..." Mothers Comfort. That is what God designed us to do. God even promises to someday comfort Israel just like a Mother comforting her toddler.
My boys are all grown up now. My firstborn is 25 years old, and a new Daddy. My middle son is a senior in college about to turn 21 years old. And the "baby" graduated from high school one year ago and moved out in January. How come the clingiest baby is now the most independent young man??
The Bible says that older women are to be reverent in their behavior...teaching what is good, that they may encourage the young women to love their husbands, to love their children, to be sensible, pure, workers at home, kind, being subject to their own husbands, that the word of God may not be dishonored. I like that. And often God tells us what to do in commandment form because it does not come naturally. We need His Help to love our husbands, and love our children. And God also helps us enjoy each stage.
My boys are all grown up now. My firstborn is 25 years old, and a new Daddy. My middle son is a senior in college about to turn 21 years old. And the "baby" graduated from high school one year ago and moved out in January. How come the clingiest baby is now the most independent young man??
The Bible says that older women are to be reverent in their behavior...teaching what is good, that they may encourage the young women to love their husbands, to love their children, to be sensible, pure, workers at home, kind, being subject to their own husbands, that the word of God may not be dishonored. I like that. And often God tells us what to do in commandment form because it does not come naturally. We need His Help to love our husbands, and love our children. And God also helps us enjoy each stage.
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