Good Grief!

“In the words of a broken heart,
It’s just emotion that’s taken me over,
Tied up in sorrow, lost in my soul…”
(1977) “Emotion” Recorded By: Samantha Sang Composed By: Robin Hugh Gibb / Barry Alan Gibb

It’s been a longer span of time since I wrote a post on this blog. A number of reasons come to mind as I write this, but for now I will say it’s because of grief. Really, grief is just a pinch inside a mix of ingredients. Grief, with a good dose of anger, stirred with a mix of anxiousness makes for a good bunt cake to the belly. Throw that in a pre-heated oven deep down inside, and see what comes out as the temperature rises. Have you felt it yourself? This cake is bitter.

Grief can be born out of many things. Frankly, it could be manifested out of an ongoing flash flood of issues, washing everything down stream, taking out foundations which were once thought as solid and sturdy.

Photo by Ian Turnell on Pexels.com

Take note of the drastic rise in crime across the U.S. Notice the overwhelming splash of drug abuse nationwide. Research the scoreless population of homelessness in our streets and under bridges. Violence is becoming the norm in the streets, against everyone, including Asians, elderly, and children. Much of which were committed by ex-cons who were set free from behind bars. Others act out due to mental illness, peer pressure, or pure hatred. Where is the righteous rage?

Try not to ignore the vast numbers of “illegal” immigrants crossing our southern border at will. Throngs have entered illegally from all over the world. The White House continues to sit in silence about this problem. Many of these are sexually abused on the journey, victims of human trafficking. A few days ago, two little girls under 10 years old, walking solo across the border, had been sexually assaulted. Our border officers have had to get wet while retrieving bodies floating in the Rio Grande, including the bodies of children. Not a peep from the White House, as if it’s not happening. When out of the confines of much of the media, you will find out that thousands of these untested, unmasked, unvaccinated illegal immigrants are ill with COVID as they are freely placed by our government all over the U.S. by plane and bus, possibly in your town unknowingly. It’s not a racial statement to point out the facts of what is going on. That’s a foolish default narrative accusation set-up by those who don’t want to face the problem, but are willing to attack those who do. Pouring in without resistance includes drug mules, various criminals, and well-known gang members, including the murderous, MS-13. Very few are being vetted. There are those close to the the border crisis warning of terrorists taking advantage of an reckless open border. Yet, the White House looks the other way. Yep, nothing to see here. That’s the same people who planned the exit from Afghanistan. Trust?

Unwise massive spending bills, much of which are politically charged from the far left, are being passed that will cripple our economy, leaving generations to come under water. Trillions of dollars we Americans do not have. We are no longer energy self-sufficient. Fossil fuel production here has been dramatically clipped in the last 8 months, and now we are dependent on OPEC, and OPEC’s whims once again. Sure, some nations pay $9.00/gallon and call it, “normal”. Some pay more than that. Is that what we want? My wallet isn’t big enough. How about yours? Maybe we will find a way to grind up all those statues of the founding fathers we have torn down and pour the dust into our gas tanks. Do you think that will work? At the same time, businesses are shutting down, while some can’t stay open due to the lack of employees. Why? Because the White House continues to spoon feed people with unemployment checks, along with stimulus checks, which add up to much more than their salaries.

Critical Race Theory is quickly becoming a norm for school districts all across the nation. Why do we approve of our children being soaked in the false narrative that one race is better than the other, adding that one race is a perpetual victim at birth? CRT teaches against Martin Luther King, Jr. He believed a nation should not judge by the color of skin, but by one’s character. CRT aims to divide the population into tribes, no longer with the goal of ONE NATION, ONE PEOPLE. The White House approves. Why is that?

We have a Godless generation being raised. Marxism is celebrated now. That sound isn’t wooden pews creaking as someone shifts their weight, it’s crickets. Ebbing away are moral directives and disciplines, unless it’s from the gang-banger on the corner, or the leftest professor with a communistic agenda. In fact, I have seen more Christian-haters, and Jew-haters, online now than ever before who rage openly, about how people of faith should be removed, or shut down in the proverbial public square. Just today, I read a post from an old friend who blamed the resistance to mask mandates on…(wait for it)…”religious people.” Have we forgotten how Nero blamed the ills of the Roman Empire, and even the burning of Rome on…(wait for it)…Christians? Oh, yeah. If CRT is replacing true history, than maybe no one will know about that.

Photo by Jonas Ferlin on Pexels.com

I have seen people I know die from COVID. At this very moment, one of my dearest cousins is struggling for her life from this virus, and her husband is in ICU on a ventilator who may not recover from it. At the same time, there are multitudes who will read this and respond with, “If they are part of the unvaccinated, they deserve to suffer and die.” The White House is now using a carefully crafted title, “The Pandemic of The Unvaccinated”. This is dangerous! It sets the idea, for minds of mush, that the pandemic is only here due to individuals who have chosen not to get vaccinated. Thus, the blame-game. This is where we are in our society now. The love of many will indeed wax cold, so says scripture.

Unfortunately, much of our current politicians in Washington DC, care more about applauding themselves on passing a multi-trillion dollar spending bill into law, or the number of vaccines pierced this week, or how many masks are smothered over the faces of Americans than the sloppy mess of how it was decided to exit our people from Afghanistan. Because of this failure, many American soldiers have been killed in the process of helping to evacuate helpless civilians in harms way. Scores of civilian losses. Women who remain will be beaten, raped, murdered, and refused access to education. Why? Because there, they are seen as pack mules and baby factories by extremist pigs like the Taliban and ISIS-K. In THIS crisis, the White House can’t look the other way, only due to the outrage of the majority of Americans, as the White House watches the polls in hopes it will be just another news cycle scenario. Experts now fear another 9/11 will take place. I certainly expect it.

So, yes, my grief is good! It needs to happen. Too many today are NOT grieving over the dragging down of our nation, our culture, our society, our laws. Too many haven’t felt grief at all because of the option to medicate oneself. Drink this. Swallow this. Shoot-up this. Snort this. So many of what’s running through our veins is coming across…(wait for it)…our southern border. Soon, grief is drowned in the pool of a blank mind, a blank spirit, a blank soul. America is in trouble. And if America is in trouble, the free world is in trouble.

Believe me when I say, I am not wallowing in grief, but I do find it difficult to shampoo it all away. How do YOU rinse it out?

Grief itself is not wrong. It is not a sin. In fact, Jesus said it’s even rewarded.

“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.” – Jesus – Matthew 5:3-4 (NAS)

Even Jesus was a man of sorrows. He wasn’t shielded from hurting and pain.

After His friend, Lazarus died, he was hit with grief. Before raising him from the dead…

“Jesus wept.” – John 11:35 (KJV)

He mourned for His nation in peril and disarray.

“Jerusalem, Jerusalem, you that murdered The Prophets and stoned those who were sent to it! How many times have I desired to gather your children, as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, and you were not willing! Behold, your house is left to you desolate!” – Jesus – Matthew 23:37-38 (Aramaic Bible In Plain English)

He sees. He knows. He weeps. The Author and Finisher of The Faith wrote of all of the above in prophecies, both in the Old Testament and the New Testament.

He also comforts in the most difficult of times. That means I can react to our state of affairs and grieve. In doing so, I know I am in good company.

Grieving is expected. Righteous action is plainly printed in fuel for the race.

“I heard the LORD of Hosts declare: “‘Surely many houses will become desolate, great mansions left unoccupied. ‘” Isaiah 5:9 (Berean Study Bible)

A Great Fall

“Don’t go jumping waterfalls.
Please, keep to the lake.
People who jump waterfalls,
sometimes can make mistakes.”
(1980) “Waterfalls” Written & Recorded By: Paul McCartney

The cover photo above was taken by my daughter, Megan, last month on the American side of Niagara Falls. Not fully frozen this year, but capturing the late night beauty of the falls is always worth it. At that time of night/overnight, they shut off the colored lights washing over the falls. In this cover photo you can see how it looks naturally at night.

We lived in that region for five years, Megan was the only one of the five of us who stayed. Never did I tire of standing by the majestic Niagara Falls. Only once did we venture out in zero degree air to see the falls in its almost frozen form. Not only does the beauty, and the piercing frozen mist of the frozen falls, take the breath out of you, but the muzzled roar is deafening. Also, in April, you often can watch the breakaway icebergs as big as houses go over the brink and crash in the lower Niagara.

Niagara Falls in winter. The hurricane viewing deck is encased in ice.

My personal favorite location to view the falls is on the Canadian side where the Horseshoe Falls is the most photographed. Below, my daughter, and my future son-in-law, are perfectly happy in the late night hours on the American side.

Megan Brown and Kevin Sampson on the American side of Niagara Falls.

The thundering roar of the falls can amaze you. The fact you can hardly hear your own voice the closer you are to the crashing waters can astound. The rumble beneath your feet from the vibration of the shear weight of the falling waters of the Niagara will raise your eyebrows. While approaching the bottom of the falls in a tour boat, decked out in your plastic raincoat and hood, you can feel the hull shiver and quake from the power of the collision of the millions of gallons from the mighty Niagara.

My late half-sister, Renea & I on the Maid Of The Mist near the bottom of the falls in 2007.

The tremendous wonderment of such a creation has caused presidents, kings and queens, the elite, the ultra famous, the most powerful and wealthy humans on the planet to stand in awe at the might of God’s artwork of Niagara Falls. Yet, its beauty comes with a dark cloud, a stigma.

It’s difficult to shade anything dark upon the majesty of such a place of history and enchantment. The truth is, this wonder of the world is also scarred by many deaths. Niagara Falls is known for being one of the most sought after locations by those who commit suicide. It’s a sad footnote to such a marvel, but true. Multiple deaths recorded there were accidental, as well. Take a look at the picture below taken from the Skylon Tower on the Canadian side from an old friend.

Niagara Falls, Horseshoe Falls.

The upper Niagara, feeding the falls, is several miles in length, reaching the Buffalo Harbor where the mouth of the Niagara begins as it meets the northern end of Lake Erie. This lengthy stretch of the Niagara River is often missed by tourists. It rushes through Buffalo, then splits around Grand Island, NY, and intersects again on the other side of Grand Island, heading with force toward the great falls.

The straightaway from Grand Island to the brink of the falls caught my attention as a kid while watching the 1953 movie, “Niagara” with Joseph Cotten and Marilyn Monroe. They were the two headlining actors, but the star of the movie was the Niagara itself.

I still have the VHS video. The story is of a crime drama with a couple of twists. Sure, the script wasn’t the best, nor some of the acting, but the scenery surrounding the falls is stunning. I don’t want to spoil the ending, but I need to get close to the brink of it for this post. There is a horrific, nail-biting scene featuring a couple in a stalled motor boat adrift on the upper Niagara, headed straight for the fringe of the falls. The authorities do all they can to rescue those in certain peril, and the drama causes you to grit your teeth. There, I didn’t give you all the details. If you see the movie, you’ll thank me later.

I thought of that scene the very first time I visited the falls in April of 2003. My future boss took me on a quick tour of the falls that day as we negotiated a contract for me to move to Buffalo to take over a radio show. He drove me down the street, which parallels the banks of the upper Niagara, before reaching the falls. He pointed out a section of the river, just about a mile or so before the falls. There, as the river raged more and more as it rushed toward the falls, were ominous warning signs and bright colored buoys. The closer we drove, the easier they were to read. All the way across the half mile wide river, alarming signs alerting boaters to halt and reverse course immediately. There was no way anyone with eyes could miss the warnings. They detailed that if any vessel went passed that point, it would be the point of no return, literally. Other signs also signaled the fact that the waters were non-negotiable for first responders, including the Coast Guard. It was clear, due to the force of the river, and the rapids scattered about, the force would take its victims to the brink of the falls without remedy. Reading the warnings sent chills up my spine.

Robert Long might have visited the falls, but I can’t say. Maybe he should’ve seen what I witnessed along the road leading to the brink. Have you heard of him?

Robert Long, a kid in his 20’s, made horrific news recently. In a red light district of Atlanta, he shot and killed several female sex workers at three message parlors, and also a male bystander walking past one of the establishments. He then drove toward Florida to unleash another shooting rampage at similar businesses of sex trafficking. He didn’t resist arrest when he was apprehended. Without incident, he was cuffed and questioned. When asked why he did what he did, he gave an interesting answer nobody could guess. He admitted to a driving sex addiction which had overtaken his life and this was how he wanted to take out the people who fed his addiction.

Those who worship the politics of the day, will tell you he was hunting people of Asian decent, blaming it all on white supremacy. Keep reading.

The investigation into the shooting spree continues, but from what has been reported as of now, this kid in his mid 20’s has been a sex addict since he was at least 14 years old. At that time, his Christian parents placed him in a facility for people with addictions. Apparently, the boy was too overtaken to succeed in a clinical treatment of that nature. Even his roommate at the facility reportedly told the authorities how Robert Long was crazed by this sexual addiction.

Scripture says God has a love for His creation. So much so, He calls the stars by name. I imagine a place of His handiwork, like Niagara Falls, holds a great love in God’s heart. Even so, He loves you and I so much more. In fact, he loves the sex worker on a 12 hour shift at a place of red neon. He loves the traffickers who sit on piles of dirty cash while arranging transportation for pre-sex workers. And, he loves Robert Long, who was tricked by the Adversary, into choosing to look at online porn at 14 years old. We know this because He came to earth to offer Himself as a sacrifice to free us from our sins that wrangles and dominates us.

From what I have heard about his parents, a former youth pastor, and church worker and volunteer, no doubt they twisted in their sleep for years over this addiction created for their son. There is so much pain involved for everyone.

Sin comes with a tripwire. It’s like a snare set up to trap a rabbit in a cage. One pull of the string, and “snap“, the rabbit is imprisoned. Along with a tripwire, sin comes with a warning sign. Dire words are given, given again, repeated again, and again, and again.

They are words like, “GO BACK”, “REVERSE COURSE NOW”, “HERE, AND NO FURTHER”, “BEYOND THIS LINE, THE POINT OF NO RETURN”. These words flash in bright, reflecting colors, day and night, night and day for all who travel too close to what will wash boaters down stream to the brink.

Someone once wrote:

“Sin will take you farther than you wanna go,
Slowly but wholly taking control.
Sin will leave you longer than you wanna stay.
Sin will cost you far more than you wanna pay.”

The fall is a long way down.

Warnings of affliction, and a way of escape, are blinking in fuel for the race.

“Do not long for the night, When people vanish in their places. Be careful, do not turn to evil, For you preferred this to misery. Behold, God is exalted in His power; Who is a teacher like Him?” Job 36:20-22 (NAS)

Winds Of Change

Cover Photo:  Pexels

“Don’t you understand what I’m sayin’,
We need a god down there.
A man to lead us children,
Take us from the valley of fear….Get on up, look around;
Can’t you feel the wind of change?
Get on up, taste the air;
Can’t you see the wind of change…”  (1975)  “Wind Of Change”  Recorded By:  Bee Gees  Composers:  Robin Gibb & Barry Gibb

She was on the phone with a friend at the time, looking out her open kitchen window over the sink.  She had heard some windy commotions outside and wondered what was coming as the sky quickly turned the afternoon into a darkened dome.  Before you could shout, “Run, Toto.  Run.”,  all the trees from her kitchen window view suddenly swayed and bent as if they were made of rubber.  Just at that moment, her phone conversation was cut-off as a very loud “BOOM” caused her to jump right out of her apron.  The clashing sound of calamity shook the entire house.  It sounded as if a car slammed into the living room at the front of the house.  She raced toward the sound of the crash.  As she opened the front door, she was met by a wall of leaves, branches, and limbs on her front porch.  The thicket was so massive, she couldn’t see through it all.  Frankly, it left her stunned.  At first she just froze trying to make sense of what she was looking at.  After she was able to get a hold of herself, she heard voices coming from the street on the other side of the wall of vegetation.

“Is anyone injured?  Are you okay in the there?”

At first she thought it humorous that someone would be yelling from the street asking if she was okay.  Still not seeing the larger picture of her circumstances, the wonderment turned into a chuckle.  She giggled and yelled back in response;

“Yes, I’m fine.  Thank you.”

They told her she needed to find a fast way out of the residence.  Thinking the comment was somewhat bizarre, she ultimately decided not to ignore the suggestion.  She walked to a bedroom toward a side door of the house, which opened to the driveway, only to feel a wave of shock as she made her way outside to the front lawn.  Again, a sense of frozen ice poured over her as she gazed at the green monstrosity.  The last of four giant sycamore trees was uprooted and laying partially on the roof, as well as an old telephone line strung across the width of the property, keeping the full weight of the tree from damaging the house any further.  (That was a God-thing.)

Moms Treed House June 2019

Photo:  My mom with a cousin and a kind neighbor.

That is what happened to my mom on June 19, 2019, a little over a year ago, when a tornado made its way over her house in Greenville, Texas.  She was well protected that day as the tornado touched-down in several areas leaving a wide path of destruction in its wake.

In 1955, when she was 11 years old, the family of five moved in.  There, between the sidewalk and the front curb by the street, were four strategically spaced large sycamore trees which went from the east side of the front curb area, to the edge of the property on the west side.  These four trees, with their over-sized leaves, ascended over the top of the telephone poles.  Here in Texas, they can climb to 100 feet in height.

Sycamore Texas A&M Forest Service

Photo:  Sycamore – Texas A&M Forest Service

Of course, that was 1955.  You can imagine how much growth there’s been throughout the following decades.  However, one by one, each met the ground.  Two had to be cut down many years ago, for one reason or another.  Just two weeks before the tornado last year, the third gigantic sycamore was partially uprooted by powerful straight-line Texas spring winds.  As it leaned on power lines, hanging over the street, the city rushed over to cut it down for safety sake.  I remember my mom being somber after another old friend of lumber was hacked-up and hauled away, saying;

“Well, at least we still have one left.”

I remember not feeling optimistic at all.  My mind kept going back to the uprooted tree which left its turf so easily in the wind storm.  One couldn’t help but wonder if the last sycamore would show stronger roots in that small patch of ground by the curb.  Alas, the tornado took advantage of the last top-heavy friendly giant.

All of my life I watched that quartet of timber grow.  In the spring and summer, the shade was tremendous as it branched out much like a colossal umbrella over the lawns to the left, right, and across the street.  During the fall, the 10″ golden leaves would float down like feathers, carpeting the entire property, the sidewalk, the street, and the driveway.  My cousins and I would run and jump in the crunchy foliage just to listen to the loud crackling beneath us.

As I received the pictures of the downed tree, I couldn’t help but think of the loving grandparents who lived there, the countless holidays celebrated, and the sight of seeing the four sycamores greeting us as we turned the corner toward my grandparent’s house over my six decades.  As a kid, I was known to jump out of the car, run up to one of the trees and shout;

“Zacchaeus, you come down!”

But, straight-line winds of hurricane force are not too unusual in Texas, and the occasional tornado will never have mercy in its path if close to the ground.  They were old trees with hindered root systems, considering the narrow piece of ground they rested in between the sidewalk and the street.

Moms Uprooted Tree June 2019

Photo:  The tornado pulled the old roots right out of the east Texas black clay.

You may be asking why I am writing about this event now, some 13 months after the fact.  Okay, I’ll tell you.

In recent weeks America has been brutalized by COVID-19, accompanied by unnecessary brutality and murder by police officers in Minneapolis, a culture war, violence in the streets, anarchy, widespread arson, public prideful lawlessness, statues of founding fathers, and historical figures, destroyed by mobs, sacred monuments defaced, over-the-top cancel culture targeting places, people, emblems, labels, businesses (big and small), police defunded, assaulted and murdered, (even efforts to remove the police as public servants, even as violence grows).  Once accomplished, who will we call when the next school mass shooting event occurs? Once accomplished, will a social worker arrive to calm the next mass church shooter as he reloads his AK-47?

!!! WHAT ARE WE DOING TO OURSELVES?

Then there are Marxists pushing their far-leftist ideology into the mainstream, tyrannical thought-judges are now in vogue, even Jesus is being attacked.  Anarchists, and those who have had closet hostility toward America, seem to be free to do what they please.  By the way, it’s worth noting, if you’re a small business owner, look out!  Extinction is possible if they get their way.  Some politicians are making excuses for it all, or looking the other way without denouncing the violence.  Such politicians are not worthy to hold an office.  Socialist radicals are ready to disassemble the Constitution, as well as, the Bill Of Rights this country was built on.  All of this, and more, within just a few weeks.

If you are an American citizen ignoring what this nation has been going through, keep in mind, you just might be “wished away” by a mob of puppets who want to uproot and remove you, your property, your livelihood, your beliefs, and your government of liberty quicker than a Texas tornado.  Once accomplished, your life, and the lives of your descendants, will never be the same.  The wind of change is something the Jews in Nazi Germany can tell you about, if they were here to testify.  Ancient kingdoms were written about in the Bible, along with historical records in museums, only because you no longer can visit their cultures due to the winds of change.  They have been uprooted and removed.  Sure, we can leave fairly impressive architecture behind us, just like the Mayans who vanished.  Is that what we want?  Are we inviting these mobs of unrest to crush the roof over our heads?  Really?

How strong ARE our roots?  Do I sound like an alarmist?  Maybe I am.

Moms Uprooted Sidewalk June 2019

Photo:  A hoisting crane holding up the tree as the arborist slices from the top downward.  The roots pulled up part of the sidewalk, no longer pedestrian friendly.

When I was maybe 12 years old, my grandparents gave me a patriotic album.  I still have it in a box in my garage.  It was highly unique in that John Wayne recorded these stirring poems about America and her citizens. (By the way, John Wayne is now under attack by the cancel culture.)  It was called, “America, Why I Love Her” (1972).  By today’s standards the project might sound a bit corny.  It is very much red, white, and blue.  Nevertheless, it is very well done, shellacked with stirring poetry, delivered perfectly by the rustic actor.  One of the cuts on the album is called, “Mis Raices Estan Aqui (My Root Are Buried Here)”  You can type it into Google for a quick listen.  I don’t want to give it all away, but I will say something about it here.  It speaks of the roots of a citizen, firmly planted in the soil of America, the America with all her bumps, bruises, and smudges.  It speaks well of the love for country, property, her enduring make-up, and her documents which publishes our liberties.  I would like to believe the roots are not shallow.

With all that is currently blowing upon this nation and her branches, one might ask about the depth of the roots.  Could it be too many complacent ones are not seeing the forest for the trees?  One might wonder if the root system has been hindered on all sides.  One might even go so far as to inquire; have the recent vortex down-bursts leveled irreversible damage?  When the face masks come off, will there be a sinister grin, or a look of fortitude in righteousness?  Ask yourself this question….Will we fall for anything?

The value of liberty, which shades all Americans, is well spoken of in fuel for the race.

“Blessed is the man who trusts in the LORD
And whose trust is the LORD.                                                                                                            For he will be like a tree planted by the water,
That extends its roots by a stream
And will not fear when the heat comes;
But its leaves will be green,
And it will not be anxious in a year of drought
Nor cease to yield fruit.”  Jeremiah 17: 7-8 (NAS)

 

Lessons From The Backyard

“…Climbed a mountain and I turned around
And I saw my reflection in the snow covered hills
‘Til the landslide brought me down.”  (1975)   “Landslide”  Recorded by:  Fleetwood Mac  Composer:  Stevie Nicks

The cover picture above tells the tale fairly well, before I get to the tail of this post.

Bonnie Piano

Photo:  Bonnie taking her naps on my printer.

I’ve never been a cat person.  I was born and raised with a dog which started a long life of canine palship ever since.  For a short stint, when I was five years old, we had a couple of cats named, “Pete & Repeat”.  They didn’t have much to do with me, with the exception of giving me cat scratch fever.  So, my heart has been wrapped around, what one of my daughters once called, “Dogness”. 

Then in 2017 I remarried.  Inheriting a step-cat was part of the wedding vows.

Bonnie-Bon, as we call her, stole my heart right away.  This little brindle feline loves to cuddle with me when she comes inside for some family time.  She curls up in my lap next to the arm of the recliner, along with a light blanket under her.  She enjoys cocking her head in focus as she paws at my goatee.  If I’m writing at my desk she will often make her place on my printer, only after she walks across my keyboard, jotting down statements only she can decipher.  She will scare the stuffings out of me as I sit in the living room when I suddenly hearing someone playing the piano in the study/studio two rooms over.  Frankly, it sounds like a kid banging away on the keys in efforts to mimic a maestro once seen on Great Performances on PBS.  I’ll jerk my head over to see the doorway of the study/studio just in time to see little Bonnie prancing out of the room as if she had accomplished something of high esteem.  The shocking part is, she is not sporting tux & tails.  (Well, maybe the tail part.)  The best part of Bonnie’s personality, she enjoys our two dogs, even to the point of running about with them as if she’s part of a pack.  Believe it or not, she has learned to mimic a dog’s bark.  She needs to be a guest on a late night talk show.  Yes, I’ve grown very fond of our Bonnie.

Bonnie & Me

Bonnie enjoys selfies.

If you’re a pet-person than you know how it is.  There’s a tendency to be massaged into thinking of your pal-of-another-kind as almost human.  Thus, we begin to speak to them as if they have human minds, wants, and needs.  So true, until they bring in a dead rodent to present as a trophy right in the middle of the kitchen floor.  Not long ago, not once, but twice, Bonnie brought in a live lizard, about 4″-5″ in length.  Not realizing she had it jailed inside her mouth, there was no urge to run her outside.  Instead, she plopped herself down, looked up at us and dropped her prize on the floor, accompanied by a gigantic meow.  Of course, once free from its cell, it ran across the room making a mad dash under the range oven for shelter.  Arg!  Suddenly, I came to the realization that Bonnie was not a human little girl after all.  In both events we caught the reptilians in another room of the house the following day.

Backyard MirrorBonnie spends most of her time in the small sun-room adjacent to the back-steps leading to the backyard.  You might say, the backyard is her jungle, her domain, her personal wildlife preserve, where I’ve witnessed her sitting like a statue in the bushes, as if to say, “Nothing to see here.  Move on.”

Backyard BenchA few days ago, my wife, Michelle, was in the backyard watering the plants.  Our two dogs and Bonnie were out with her enjoying a warm morning in Texas.  Michelle heard a loud, frantic call from a nearby bird.  She spotted an agitated mockingbird yelling her obvious profanities from a lower limb from one of our trees.  She quickly flew from that perch to the top rail of the fence, to another tree, and so on.  Michelle tried to calm the feathered frantic female as she walked around with the garden hose.

The following morning, Michelle walked out into the sun-room and spied the body of a juvenile mockingbird laying at the back door threshold.  The body wasn’t mangled, half-eaten, or torn.  Of course, immediately she put the backyard events from the day before together with the current crime scene.  With a huge sigh, she shouted, “Bonnie-Bon!  You baby bird murderer!”  As expected, Bonnie just sat there on her fanny looking very proud.

Then, morning #2 came.  Michelle walked out into the sun-room to put cat food in Bonnie’s bowl when she saw it.  Another crime scene, in the very same location.  This time, two baby mockingbirds side-by-side, lined up ready for the crime scene photo for the crime lab.  She heard a bird chirp a few feet away.  There, on the back-step handrail, the mama mockingbird.  She was just looking at her deceased babies and Michelle.  She chirped again as if to utter, “Can you fix them?”  Michelle told me later she almost cried at the sight of the saddened mama.  She spoke to her in shared grief, “I’m so sorry, little mama.  I’m so sorry.”

(Excuse me while I grab a tissue.  Wait right here.  I’ll be back.)

A couple of days later, I was watering the plants in the backyard.  I heard several sirens going by in the distance.  The city had warned the residents of a local protest event just a few blocks from our street.  With the riotous mayhem of late, leaving cars and businesses burned or looted, all I could think of was protecting my home.  Then the mockingbird and Bonnie came to mind.

America, and the entire world, have suffered great loss at the jaws and claws of COVID-19.  Then, just as America began to show signs of improvements in the struggle to defeat the virus, the tragic murder of a black man at the hands of a white police officer took place in Minneapolis, launching a barrage of protests across the nation.  Inside the various groups of protesters were anarchists stalking, waiting and ready to use the peaceful protesters as a front to scorch us…we, the people.

It has been said many times in the media that many will not come out the other side of the pandemic intact, some, not at all.  Suicides jumped to record highs.  Drug use has skyrocketed.  Domestic violence has forged its way into the record books.  Vast unemployment landed on most of the population.  Many small and medium sized businesses went belly-up, unable to glide through the torrent of the shutdown’s gravitational pull.  Untold amounts of students have fallen behind due to the closure.  A multitude of deaths have been recorded due to the pandemic.  The punch has been painful.  No one, being honest, would say we are not in a weakened condition.

The leadership of anarchist groups sat still in the shrubbery of the COVID calamity, injecting a dose of national turmoil, just planning a time when a tripwire would be sprung for the pouncing of evil deeds to be lashed upon a battered society.  Yes, that’s right.  I called it “evil”.  If you’re offended, just know I was offended first.  Since the planning and stalking of these murderous groups, countless people have been displaced, injured, and murdered.  The enforcement of public safety for our neighborhoods has been violently assaulted, abused, and dishonored.  In the wake of this pouncing on our nation’s remains are ruined lives, torched dreams, hell-lit hopes.  In the clearing fog of the crippling pandemic, were those perched to destroy America from the inside out, having attempted to breakdown whatever else remains intact.  Meanwhile, those left alive who helped to build this commonwealth of people at liberty, sit helplessly on the handrails to weep at the carnage and wreckage the emptied-souls have waged.

Solomon wrote that there is a time for mourning.  It indicates the mourning is momentary.  When mourning is over, there is the courageous fight, the strength, the victorious raising of the torch for those who come after us.

On a hopeful note, THIS is AMERICA!  Our liberty was fought for several times over.  Our roots are buried here in blood-soaked soil.  The majority of citizenry, the loving, hard-working public of all shades of skin in this nation will stand for justice, law and order, as well as flushing out injustice.  Beyond this truth, there is a God of Righteousness Who birthed this country.  He gave us the right to vote in free elections to remove and place our local and federal representatives, along with various public servants at will.  He still sits on His throne.  Nothing, has not been filtered through His Almighty hand.

As for Bonnie…I’m so grateful she is not 500 pounds.

Bonnie Face 1

Gravity is a harsh reality when out of the nest.  Nestle safely in fuel for the race.

“Be alert, be reflective, because your enemy Satan roars like a lion and is walking and seeking whom he may devour.”  1 Peter 5:8   (Aramaic Bible In Plain English)

Takin’ It To The Streets

Cover Photo:  FOX

“You don’t know me but I’m your brother.
I was raised here in this living hell.
You don’t know my kind in your world.
Fairly soon the time will tell.
You – 
Telling me the things you’re gonna do for me.
I ain’t blind and I don’t like what I think I see.
(Takin’ it to the streets)
Takin’ it to the streets…”  (1976)  “Takin’ It To The Streets”  Recorded by:  The Doobie Brothers  Composer:  Michael McDonald

Oh, but blindness is a secret ingredient in our sour bread today.

A text dinged my phone late Friday night.  It was my daughter, Megan.  She lives in downtown Buffalo, NY.  She informed me about a rioting mob coming down her street and how she was on her way to move her curb-parked car before the mob arrived.  Although she found a safer place to park her car, other properties around her didn’t do so well in the wake of the raging rioters.  The following morning she explained how the smashing of storefront windows, in concert with the screaming and yelling, kept her awake all night long.  In the light of day she left her apartment to find shops, restaurants, and car windows smashed, along with burned-out vehicles from arsonists.  Her heart was broken over the businesses she frequents.  Many of the owners are her friends.  Megan attacked the broken glass on the walkways with a broom to aid in the aftermath.  She’s a great gal, if I do say so myself.

Of course, this all helped her to understand just how to honor the family of the late, George Floyd, mercilessly killed at the hands of Minneapolis police officers on Memorial Day.  I’m certain she will now want to destroy the lives around her the very next time a rogue city employee invokes a racist action.  After all, isn’t that what is in vogue currently?  Shouldn’t we burn down the local drug store where your son, grandmother, or dad purchases insulin?  If you hear one racial slur, or just hear about it second hand, no doubt you will break the windows of a mom & pop clothing store, and loot everything you can grab.  While you’re at it, take selfies of yourself holding up the stolen goods so it can be stored in the cloud to find you guilty in a future court of law.  In fact, whatever out-of-state wrongdoing we hear about, let’s just drive to the next town over to throw firebombs at the closest law enforcement officer standing on any given street corner.  (You know, the officer who has a spouse and three kids waiting at home.)  In this way, after accomplishment, we can proudly say, “There!  That will teach the *#@%!! wrongdoer I heard about from a state on the other side of the *#@%!! nation!”

It was heart-ripping to watch the brutality which ended in the murder of George Floyd of Minneapolis.  Like most, I felt the boil in my belly as shock and dismay were overcome by raw anger.  The action of the criminal cops was nothing short of outrageous, evil, and abominable.  If the lady who holds up the scales in the courthouse is awake, I am certain justice will be served.

As I write this, there is a planned protest underway at our local police station here in our northern suburb of Dallas, Tx.  America’s freedoms allow such peaceful protests.  It is the way of our constitutional rights to do so, to speak openly and freely, without fear of governmental reprisals, or any other citizen who may have another viewpoint.  It was written long ago in the infancy of our nation to freely assemble, to freely speak, even in “peaceful” protest of our government, local or federal.  Our founders believed these rights were given to us by God, nature’s God.  This indicates that no person, nor a person’s government, nor king, gave us these rights.  We (humanity) inherited them from our Creator from the beginning.  If the “peaceful” protesters, a couple miles from me, keep that in mind, maybe my house will not be burned down tonight.

This would be the same God who also put in writing that it is a sin to steal, kill, and destroy your neighbor.  In other words, when we review this carefully we can see that if we have these rights given by God, then we certainly can say this God is firmly against viciously raping the rights of a neighbor while stealing, killing, and destroying.  Lawlessness has a heavy price tag.  It’s important to note in our day and culture the following…

GOD IS NOT SCHIZOPHRENIC!

Check my archives.  Many times I have written about the scourge of racism.  What we witnessed in Minneapolis was a hate crime, in my opinion.  Of course, the courts will have to decide this based on the evidence at hand.  However, what we have faced in recent days in our country has ZERO to do with racism, or even the tragic slaughter of George Floyd.  I know, there will be some who say it has everything to do with it.  But I dare you to be honest in a bout of reconsideration.  Follow me on this.

Martin Luther King, Jr knew and exercised peaceful protests.  An incredible man following God’s heart for the people of this nation under God.  Efforts to “take down” America, using a scorched earth method in our streets, is not the protest MLK approved of.  In fact, if you read his writings, listen to his sermons, you will find it would grieve him greatly.

Minn Drone View

Photo: FOX

Our peaceful protests have been hijacked by anarchists who have a vision of the destruction of America.  And don’t be fooled.  Our enemies are circling like birds of prey to see if self-engineered anarchy can leave this nation in ruin, especially so quickly after the COVID-19 pandemic.

There is a great darkness over our land today.  This is a spiritual problem.  I watch these 20 year old hooded puppets of the anarchists, anarchists who cowardly hide behind a curtain, mindlessly hellbent on devouring America and my heart hurts.  Most are teens and up to 30 years old or so. They are full of a rage they don’t even understand, although they are directed to believe they understand.  So, like a master instrumentalist playing a flute, they teach the torching of the cafe and shoe store their grandparents helped to build.  Most are drunk in the thrill of the flames, the shattered glass, the stolen property, along with bodily harm to the innocent.  Not once do these young minds of mush think about what comes next if they succeed.  Do you think that they really know?  The reality is, they would find themselves enslaved to another form of government that deletes their rights, decays their open future for the better, and defies the God Who gave them such liberty of law for the pursuit of happiness.  Endless poverty like they’ve never known.  Tyrannic brutality beyond modern-day description.  Not to mention, they will be forced to the front lines of a nuclear conflict to come in short order.

Minn Aftermath Photo;  FOX

I watch them and see they have no fear of God.  The fear of a Supreme One, who dictates the times, laws, and steps of nations, is not in these street puppets.  The Minneapolis officers displayed no fear of God during the memorial Day murder of George Floyd.  Once based on the Almighty, this country suffers from the willingness of ejecting the Great I Am of scripture for the role of a marionette.

A nation without the fear of its Creator is a spiraling one.  It’s been proven over and over again.  God, help us all.

Hard lessons are rolled up in the scrolls of fuel for the race.

“Righteousness exalts a nation, but sin condemns any people.” – Proverbs 14:34 (NIV)