Thanks for stopping by. I'm taking a short break from my break to share with you a timely story about Halloween. My family has long held the practice of bringing Christ into Halloween, and the following story is a reflection of how this tradition came to be.
Hopefully, most of you have read When Love Calls, the novel I wrote a few years ago. The story I'm about to share is an excerpt from the sequel, Love's Determined Grace, which is still in production and soon to be on the market, I hope. This excerpt is from Chapter Fourteen, and is a rare glimpse into the lives of the Harvey Family a few years following the conclusion of When Love Calls. I pray that you will enjoy this short intrusion into the Harvey household, and I hope that the story will help focus your walk with Christ.
The Harveys spent several months in the hospital following the tragedy surrounding the birth of their son, Alston. (I don't want to give away any of the story line.) Because of the time they spent in the hospital, they missed Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas. And now, I present to you:
Love's Determined Grace
Chapter Fourteen
Lilly deeply regretted the family didn’t get to participate in any of the fall and winter festivities that were common traditions. One snowy afternoon in January, Lilly was trying to locate a skirt that would fit her enlarged waistline, which was a trophy she collected while sitting in a hospital room daily and eating brownies nightly. As she pushed aside a long red cocktail dress, which had no hope of fitting her, she found a Halloween costume, which she’d purchased for Mariah several months before Alston was born. Mariah was continually enamored with Indian maidens, and loved to pretend that she was an Indian princess. When Lilly ran across a maiden playsuit on a closeout rack at the mall, she bought it and tucked it away until Halloween came along.
She held the costume at eye level and examined the genuine imitation leather and beads, determining that Mariah would outgrow the costume before the next Halloween. In a flash of inspiration, she decided that they would celebrate the holidays they’d missed while in Georgia. When she suggested the idea to Caton, he greeted the thought with enthusiasm. A plan was launched that afternoon which would allow the Harveys to celebrate lieu holidays throughout the month of January.
The biggest challenge with re-celebrating Halloween in January was finding a pumpkin that would be suitable to carve. The other was the fact of having no other families in the area that would participate with a trick-or-treat night. However, in reality, having other families participate was irrelevant, as they lived so remotely from other homes that they usually didn’t go door to door trick-or-treating, unless Mariah was at a party in the Village. That’s when Lilly had a second inspiration. She would incorporate the idea of Easter eggs into a trick-or-treat night. She had Jane and Susan secretly hide various chocolate treats throughout the outbuildings surrounding the big house.
The challenge of the pumpkin was left to Caton. Somehow, he managed to deliver a fairly decent pumpkin the night before the planned Halloween party. When Mariah saw her father carrying a pumpkin in his arms, she was ecstatic and hyper beyond control. Lilly was proud she ever had the idea.
The next afternoon, while Mariah was posing in her costume for photos in front of the fireplace, Caton casually asked Lilly, “So, are you going to cry like you did last year?”
She giggled at the memory and pushed him away. “Don’t you rub salt into my wounds, Mister.”
Jane, who was helping Mariah with the feather in her hair, couldn’t resist the urge to meddle into the private dispute. “So, what’s this all about?”
Lilly placed her hands on her hips and boldly declared. “Oh, Mr. Self Righteous had a melt down one Halloween when I wanted to take Mariah to the harvest festival dressed as a witch.” She glanced at Caton. “And it wasn’t last year, it was several years ago.”
Jane was enthusiastic. “There has to be a great story here. Who wants to tell it?”
Caton smirked. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Lilly tisked him from afar. “Oh, please!” She looked a Jane. “I’ll tell you. In fact, it was our worst fight ever.”
Jane was all ears. “Great! Do tell!”
“Well, it happened this way. Caton has never been a big Halloween participant—which involves something about his church and his mother.”
Jane squinted as she tried to make sense of that information. “What does that mean?”
She rolled her eyes and flashed a smile at her husband. “I donno. It has something to do with Satan… or worshiping Satan on Halloween.”
“What?” Jane asked in complete surprise.
Caton grunted in disapproval and stood. “I’ll tell the story, if you don’t mind.” Lilly quietly sat back down, satisfied that she’d managed to poke the bear into getting involved. “Jane, I’ve never really celebrated Halloween as a child. I can remember one year where Mom let us dress up and go to the neighbor’s houses for trick-or-treat. Of course, we lived much closer to the Village in those days, so it wasn’t such a big deal. The only thing I remember about that night was making my Mom mad because we ate all our candy and ruined our supper. After that, we stopped participating in Halloween entirely.”
Jane was incredulous. “You’re kidding me! You stopped Halloween because you ate all your candy and got in trouble?”
He shook his head. “No, not at all. Shortly after that, several families in our church decided that Halloween was all about celebrating Satan, so we stopped interacting entirely.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
He lifted his shoulders. “No, it’s true.”
“But Halloween isn’t about worshiping Satan.”
“I know that now. But it was a bitter struggle for me to evolve to the point where I could admit that.”
“Why?”
“Because I grew up believing that way, and once you have that notion in your head, it’s hard to change. We always assumed that Halloween was evil because it was so pagan. On the other hand, Lilly grew up participating in every Halloween event that came along, so it was a day filled with fun and games for her. After Lilly and I married, she pressed me for a reason why I was so opposed to celebrating Halloween. All I knew was that I grew up believing Halloween and everything attached to it were evil. I couldn’t articulate why, but I knew I believed it.”
Lilly jumped into the conversation. “It was the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen. I’d never heard of anyone being offended by Halloween, and I had no idea that he would react as he did.”
“Why? What did he do?”
“I brought home a small costume of a witch with a black cat perched on her shoulder. It was the cutest outfit I’d ever seen. There were little brooms printed on the pattern, with a little kitten holding onto the broom as if it would fall off. When I saw it, I simply had to buy it. When I showed it to Caton, he acted as if I’d thrown away all of his baseball cards.”
Caton grunted at her and she whispered in a loud voice, “Which I’ll never do again. But that’s a story for another day.”
“So, go on. How did he react?”
“It was strange. At first he thought I was joking, so he laughed. When I called to Mariah and had her try on the outfit, he became irrational. He was so angry that he didn’t know what to do. Now mind you, I’m not expecting him to be opposed to Halloween. So, when he yelled at me and made Mariah change clothes, I became very upset. He was accusing me of glorifying Satan. It all seemed so unfair.”
“A miscarriage of justice, if you ask me.”
Caton replied, “We’re not asking, Jane. Thank you.”
Lilly patted her husband on the knee. “To his credit, when I challenged him to defend his position, he couldn’t answer me at that moment. But, he did the research. He discovered something that made us all reconsider what we believed.”
“What was that?”
Caton spoke. “When I traced the roots of Halloween, I discovered it originated from an ancient Celtic feast called Samhain. The druids believed that on the eve of Samhain, the veil between the physical and the supernatural was pierced, allowing witches, demons, and hobgoblins to roam the earth and harass the living. In order to protect their lives, the people would disguise themselves as demons and ghouls, and they would carve faces into gourds, lighting candles inside of them to ward off evil spirits. They would also try to appease the spirit world by leaving offerings of food and other treats.
“The Christians of the day attempted to take the pagan elements of Samhain and convert it to a holy day. They proclaimed that God had triumphed over evil, and proclaimed that Jesus had supremacy over all the superstitions. So, all Hallows Eve, which later became Halloween, was an effort by the Church to overtake the beliefs in the ghouls with the power of the Gospel.”
“Yawn. What a boring story. What’s there to get all upset about?”
He shrugged. “Honestly, it was a well intended, but misguided reaction by contemporary Christians. I mean, Halloween is heavily dominated by paganistic elements, and a lot of Christians chose to run and hide from this one night, instead of engaging it and try to bring glory to God.” He scratched his nose. “Actually, I was one of those Christians that were dead set against even acknowledging Halloween in any way whatsoever. When others told me that Halloween was a satanic holy day and that anyone participating in any Halloween related events is inadvertently worshiping Satan. But, when I admitted that I didn’t know why I believed that Halloween was evil, I was able to research the truth. I was a bit surprised at what I’d found.”
“Me too,” Lilly volunteered. “While Caton was preaching against Halloween, I was being awakened to the idea that many of the things Christians do on that day don’t necessarily bring glory to God, either. I don’t believe that it glorifies God in any way to dress as a demon from Hell, or some supernatural enemy of God. But, on the other hand, I don’t see any harm in a child dressing up as something that is innocent and harmless. Last year, Mariah dressed up as a Cabbage Patch Doll. And let me tell you, she was cute!”
“I’ll bet.”
“Wait, let me show you the pictures.” She pulled a photo album from the bookshelf and laid it open in Jane’s hands. “See? There she is.”
“Oh, she was so cute! What is that? She’s wearing glasses!” Jane turned the page. “Well now, what’s this?”
Lilly leaned forward and blushed. “Oh, that? I decided to dress up as a fairy.”
Caton leaned forward. “I remember that outfit. It was my favorite.”
Jane nodded. “I’ll bet. Look at those curves.”
Lilly was flushed red from blushing. “Caton wouldn’t let me wear it out of the house.”
“I don’t blame him. Yikes, I need to try it on and see if I can…”
“I don’t think so,” Lilly interrupted. “You would only get in trouble if you wore that outfit.”
“Jane?” Caton offered. “Lilly can wear that outfit any day she wants extra attention from me. But I refuse to let another man see her dressed as a fairy. That’s reserved only for me. Right, Baby?”
Lilly winked at him. “Darn right!”
“Now, now, you two. Settle down. So, how did Caton dress up?”
Lilly frowned. “He wouldn’t. He said it was pure foolishness to parade around in a costume.”
“What a stick in the mud.”
“Tell me about it.” She smiled and blew a kiss at her husband.
Mariah, who had been patiently waiting for the grown ups to finish their boring conversation tugged at her mother’s blouse. “When can we carve the pumpkin?”
Lilly glanced at Caton. “When do you want to do it?”
He glanced at his watch. “I was thinking of driving to town to check on the crew working at the Apple Tree Hotel, but it’s getting pretty late.” He knelt down and pulled Mariah close to him. “How about we do it now? Would that be alright?”
“Yeah!” Mariah shouted. “I’m ready.”
“How about Miss Jane? Is she ready?”
Mariah excited turned on her heals. “Are you ready, Miss Jane?”
“Why not? What are we going to do?”
Lilly explained their tradition. “We carve out the pumpkin and then Caton reads 1 Corinthians 15. It’s really simple. Sit down and watch.”
Jane sat on the hearth in front of the fireplace and watched as Caton cut a hole into the top of the pumpkin. As soon as she could, Mariah began to pull the seeds and sinew from the pumpkin’s interior. While she worked, Caton asked her, “What does the pumpkin represent?”
“Our heart.”
“What does the gunky stuff on the inside of the pumpkin represent?”
“Sin.” She loved to play this game, and she answered with gusto as she squished orange goo and seeds between her fingers.
“What does Jesus do with our hearts?”
“He takes away the sin.”
“What are we doing with the pumpkin?”
“We’re cleaning out the pumpkin, like Jesus cleans out our hearts.”
When they scraped the final gunk out of the pumpkin, Lilly carved a cross in the pumpkin, where a face would normally go. While Lilly and Mariah busied themselves with the cross, Caton picked up his Bible and read the passage from 1 Corinthians 15, the great chapter on resurrection, and which boldly declared that Jesus had triumphed over death. When he came to verse 55, Mariah joined him in saying, “O Death, where is thy sting? O Hades, where is thy victory?”
Caton concluded his reading with, “The sting of death is sin, and strength of sin is the law. But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ. Therefore, my beloved family, be steadfast, immovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, knowing that your labor is not in vain in the Lord.”
“Amen,” Lilly said.
Caton then asked Mariah, “What is the purpose of the cross on our pumpkin?”
“It’s the cross that Jesus died on when He cleansed our hearts from sin.”
“Why did He die on the cross?”
“So that I wouldn’t have to.”
“To what?”
“Daddy!” she exclaimed. “To die!”
“Oh, that’s right.” Then he watched as Lilly placed a candle inside the pumpkin and touched a match to the wick. “What does the candle represent?”
“The light of the Lord in our hearts.”
“Okay, Mariah, go turn off the lights so we can see the pumpkin.”
“Yeah!” She jumped and ran to the light switch, sending the room into darkness, save the light from the fireplace and the gentle glow emanating from the pumpkin. As Mariah climbed into her mother’s lap, Lilly began to sing, “This little light of mine, I’m going to let it shine…” Soon, all, including Jane, were singing the age-old children’s hymn.
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Monday, September 14, 2009
Prioritizing
Hello. Thanks for stopping by.
I'm certain you've noticed that I've struggled to get new stories posted for your reading pleasure.
The truth is, I've been working on a very time sensitive writing project that has consumed all of my free time. My new work is titled (working title) Omega Point 2012, and is a fictional Sci-Fi story that revolves around the Maya and their prophecy that the world will end in 2012.
Your patience is appreciated. I'm very close to being finished. As of today, I have 175 typed pages, 90,000 words, 25 chapters, and about 20,000 words to go. I can have it finished by October if I really bear down. In order for me to do that, I've had to cut out all my blogging activities.
Thanks for understanding, and I'll return to action soon--I hope!
I'm certain you've noticed that I've struggled to get new stories posted for your reading pleasure.
The truth is, I've been working on a very time sensitive writing project that has consumed all of my free time. My new work is titled (working title) Omega Point 2012, and is a fictional Sci-Fi story that revolves around the Maya and their prophecy that the world will end in 2012.
Your patience is appreciated. I'm very close to being finished. As of today, I have 175 typed pages, 90,000 words, 25 chapters, and about 20,000 words to go. I can have it finished by October if I really bear down. In order for me to do that, I've had to cut out all my blogging activities.
Thanks for understanding, and I'll return to action soon--I hope!
Monday, August 3, 2009
Bootless Beretta Haggard, US Army
As I continue to honor those who have served us, pay special attention to this particular story. It has more twists and turns than a Texas twister!
Born on January 24, 1973, in the Smokey Mountains near the border of Georgia, Beretta Haggard grew up in the small village of Ducktown, Tennessee. His parents moved to Ducktown when he was a child where they started working as naturalists with the Cherokee National Forrest.
Beretta was an only child, but was surrounded by animals of every sort. “Have you ever seen the Beverly Hillbillies?” he asked through a heavy Southern accent. “We were just like that! We had farm animals that were bottle fed, and Poppa even adopted a mule deer he found along the highway one day. That deer’s momma had been hit by a car and had to be put down. So, we took it in and it became a family pet.”
It was Beretta’s love for animals that generally shaped the direction his life would take. Graduating as a valedictorian from high school, he had every intention of going straight to The University of Tennessee in order to study animal science and become a veterinarian. However, his plans were interrupted when Gulf War I broke out following Saddam Hussein’s invasion of Kuwait. He answered the call to serve his country when President George H. Bush mobilized the 82nd Airborne to remove the Iraqi invaders from Kuwaiti soil. He enlisted in the U.S. Army late in the fall of 1990, and signed up to be an airborne infantryman. Because he was only 17, he had to have his father grant him permission.
His time in the Army was anything but uneventful. He arrived at Fort Benning, Georgia, and became a proud member of the 1st Battalion, 38th infantry, a boot camp training unit, where his drill sergeant advised him how to be the best soldier he could be. Toward the end of his boot camp cycle, Beretta was the Platoon Guide for the First Platoon. Charley Company was engaged in the field training exercises called Escape and Evasion, which is a 36 hour war game designed to prepare infantrymen for combat. During the exercise, the point-man in his platoon tripped and fell into a ravine, badly gashing his leg. “I saw him go down. He landed funny when his pants leg snagged on a tree root, and the laces around his boots got tangled around the root. He was dangling off the creek bank and he hit his head. When I got to him, he was covered in blood. I thought he had a head wound, but he was bleeding from a gash on his leg. I could see that he had a deep puncture wound and that he was losing blood fast. It was an artery, ‘cause I could see the blood squirt out about five feet every time his heart beat.” Beretta gazed distantly out the window as he recalled the story to me. “I was lucky to have been an Eagle Scout. I had taken some basic first aid courses, and I remembered how to apply pressure on wounds.”
What Beretta did was nothing short of heroic. Without wasting time to cut Private Morgan from the tree, he went to work trying to stop the blood. “I had nothing to tie up the bandages, so I took the laces from my combat boots and used them to tie the bandages around his leg.” With his swift action, Beretta saved the life of Private Jimmy Morgan, who would have bled out in only minutes had he not have acted so swiftly. When the medics arrived on scene, they found Beretta wearing only one boot, but applying pressure like a seasoned paramedic. “That’s how I got the nickname, Bootless.” The name stuck with him for life.
After airborne training, Beretta became a proud member of the 82nd Airborne. He arrived at Fort Bragg, North Carolina, just as the 82nd became the vanguard in Operation Desert Shield. Although he missed the first deployment to Operation Desert Shield, he was there for the invasion on January, 16, 1991, one week short of his 18th birthday. In the short 100-hour ground war, the 82nd drove deep into Iraq and captured thousands of Iraqi soldiers and tons of equipment, weapons, and ammunition. During that campaign, as the 82nd bore down on the entrenched Iraqi Republican Guard, Bootless Beretta Haggard received another opportunity to become a hero. His squadron was working a machine gun nest built into the side of a low rise… “We were trying to flank that machine gunner. As we approached from the right, a child, barely ten years old, spooked and ran out of that machine gun nest. We were shocked to see that a kid was hiding in there with those soldiers. But, as we came within 20 yards of that position, an Iraqi soldier threw a grenade at us. I don’t know what was worse,” he tried to explain. “Knowing that a kid came out of that hole, or realizing that he was running right into that live grenade. I didn’t really think about it. I just ran across that gunfire and did a flying tackle on that boy. The grenade exploded just as we landed in the sand.” Beretta was able to save the boy’s life, but he did so at the expense of his right leg. “My foot was still in the air when the grenade exploded. My right foot was completely severed just below the knee. I truly was bootless now!” This particular incident is even further amplified by the fact that his squad was able to seize a large stash of weapons grade plutonium by taking down that machine gun nest. Had that plutonium not been seized, it very well could have been developed into a nuclear weapon.
Thus ended Beretta’s military career. He was shipped stateside and discharged as a fully disabled veteran. But, Beretta refused to stay down. He was eligible for vocational rehabilitation with the Department of Veteran’s Affairs, so he enrolled in the University of Tennessee, only this time on Uncle Sam’s ticket.
Once again graduating with honors, Beretta worked as a veterinarian for a farm and ranch clinic in Chattanooga, Tennessee. Specializing in the care of large animals, he began to work with the local horse breeders. One case of particular interest: he was the primary care veterinarian for Five Alarm Fire, the race horse that won the Triple Crown of Thoroughbred Racing, which includes the Kentucky Derby, Preakness Stakes, and the Belmont Stakes. Most avid fans of horse racing will remember that Five Alarm Fire was the thoroughbred that developed eye cancer and had the first successful eye transplant for horses. Not only that, but Beretta was able to use the cancer tissues from that case and eventually developed the cure for equestrian eye cancer, in a joint effort with the University of Kentucky. The treatment focused on creating protein resistant nuclei that target cancer cells and eventually strangle them, eliminating the cancer causing cells in a matter of weeks.
While the treatment is still in the testing phase, the Food and Drug Administration is adapting the treatment for use with humans. In each test case, the cancer cells have been removed, without a trace, from each of the human test subjects. It is entirely probable that cancer will be eradicated by the end of 2010. The creation of the Protein Resistant Nuclei prompted Beretta to become the first veterinarian to win the Nobel Peace Prize.
Why have you not heard about this? The answer is very simple. In 1973, when Beretta’s mother learned that she was pregnant, she decided that having a baby would ruin her career path, so she had an abortion at the age of 19. When she did so, she forever altered the course of human events. Because Beretta was never born, Private Morgan, a father of twins, and a devoted husband, died from exsanguination resulting from a leg wound when he was in boot camp in Georgia. His daughters grew up without a father and became wards of the state when Mrs. Morgan committed suicide following her husband’s death. She couldn’t bear to go on without him.
Because Beretta wasn’t there to save the Iraqi boy from the grenade, Hassani died. Hassani would have been the man who would later work as an intelligence operative with the CIA, and who would locate a hidden lab in Iran where scientists were developing weapons grade smallpox. Because Hassani died as a boy, over 1500 US soldiers were exposed to the smallpox during the second Gulf war and each died from that exposure.
Because Beretta wasn’t born, he was unable to develop the cure for cancer, which was derived from a unique treatment used to cure eye cancer in a race horse.
Why haven’t you heard about Bootless Beretta Haggard? Because abortion was made legal through a monumental court case called Roe v. Wade on January 22, 1973.
Bootless Beretta Haggard, US Army
Born on January 24, 1973, in the Smokey Mountains near the border of Georgia, Beretta Haggard grew up in the small village of Ducktown, Tennessee. His parents moved to Ducktown when he was a child where they started working as naturalists with the Cherokee National Forrest.
Beretta was an only child, but was surrounded by animals of every sort. “Have you ever seen the Beverly Hillbillies?” he asked through a heavy Southern accent. “We were just like that! We had farm animals that were bottle fed, and Poppa even adopted a mule deer he found along the highway one day. That deer’s momma had been hit by a car and had to be put down. So, we took it in and it became a family pet.”
It was Beretta’s love for animals that generally shaped the direction his life would take. Graduating as a valedictorian from high school, he had every intention of going straight to The University of Tennessee in order to study animal science and become a veterinarian. However, his plans were interrupted when Gulf War I broke out following Saddam Hussein’s invasion of Kuwait. He answered the call to serve his country when President George H. Bush mobilized the 82nd Airborne to remove the Iraqi invaders from Kuwaiti soil. He enlisted in the U.S. Army late in the fall of 1990, and signed up to be an airborne infantryman. Because he was only 17, he had to have his father grant him permission.
His time in the Army was anything but uneventful. He arrived at Fort Benning, Georgia, and became a proud member of the 1st Battalion, 38th infantry, a boot camp training unit, where his drill sergeant advised him how to be the best soldier he could be. Toward the end of his boot camp cycle, Beretta was the Platoon Guide for the First Platoon. Charley Company was engaged in the field training exercises called Escape and Evasion, which is a 36 hour war game designed to prepare infantrymen for combat. During the exercise, the point-man in his platoon tripped and fell into a ravine, badly gashing his leg. “I saw him go down. He landed funny when his pants leg snagged on a tree root, and the laces around his boots got tangled around the root. He was dangling off the creek bank and he hit his head. When I got to him, he was covered in blood. I thought he had a head wound, but he was bleeding from a gash on his leg. I could see that he had a deep puncture wound and that he was losing blood fast. It was an artery, ‘cause I could see the blood squirt out about five feet every time his heart beat.” Beretta gazed distantly out the window as he recalled the story to me. “I was lucky to have been an Eagle Scout. I had taken some basic first aid courses, and I remembered how to apply pressure on wounds.”
What Beretta did was nothing short of heroic. Without wasting time to cut Private Morgan from the tree, he went to work trying to stop the blood. “I had nothing to tie up the bandages, so I took the laces from my combat boots and used them to tie the bandages around his leg.” With his swift action, Beretta saved the life of Private Jimmy Morgan, who would have bled out in only minutes had he not have acted so swiftly. When the medics arrived on scene, they found Beretta wearing only one boot, but applying pressure like a seasoned paramedic. “That’s how I got the nickname, Bootless.” The name stuck with him for life.
After airborne training, Beretta became a proud member of the 82nd Airborne. He arrived at Fort Bragg, North Carolina, just as the 82nd became the vanguard in Operation Desert Shield. Although he missed the first deployment to Operation Desert Shield, he was there for the invasion on January, 16, 1991, one week short of his 18th birthday. In the short 100-hour ground war, the 82nd drove deep into Iraq and captured thousands of Iraqi soldiers and tons of equipment, weapons, and ammunition. During that campaign, as the 82nd bore down on the entrenched Iraqi Republican Guard, Bootless Beretta Haggard received another opportunity to become a hero. His squadron was working a machine gun nest built into the side of a low rise… “We were trying to flank that machine gunner. As we approached from the right, a child, barely ten years old, spooked and ran out of that machine gun nest. We were shocked to see that a kid was hiding in there with those soldiers. But, as we came within 20 yards of that position, an Iraqi soldier threw a grenade at us. I don’t know what was worse,” he tried to explain. “Knowing that a kid came out of that hole, or realizing that he was running right into that live grenade. I didn’t really think about it. I just ran across that gunfire and did a flying tackle on that boy. The grenade exploded just as we landed in the sand.” Beretta was able to save the boy’s life, but he did so at the expense of his right leg. “My foot was still in the air when the grenade exploded. My right foot was completely severed just below the knee. I truly was bootless now!” This particular incident is even further amplified by the fact that his squad was able to seize a large stash of weapons grade plutonium by taking down that machine gun nest. Had that plutonium not been seized, it very well could have been developed into a nuclear weapon.
Thus ended Beretta’s military career. He was shipped stateside and discharged as a fully disabled veteran. But, Beretta refused to stay down. He was eligible for vocational rehabilitation with the Department of Veteran’s Affairs, so he enrolled in the University of Tennessee, only this time on Uncle Sam’s ticket.
Once again graduating with honors, Beretta worked as a veterinarian for a farm and ranch clinic in Chattanooga, Tennessee. Specializing in the care of large animals, he began to work with the local horse breeders. One case of particular interest: he was the primary care veterinarian for Five Alarm Fire, the race horse that won the Triple Crown of Thoroughbred Racing, which includes the Kentucky Derby, Preakness Stakes, and the Belmont Stakes. Most avid fans of horse racing will remember that Five Alarm Fire was the thoroughbred that developed eye cancer and had the first successful eye transplant for horses. Not only that, but Beretta was able to use the cancer tissues from that case and eventually developed the cure for equestrian eye cancer, in a joint effort with the University of Kentucky. The treatment focused on creating protein resistant nuclei that target cancer cells and eventually strangle them, eliminating the cancer causing cells in a matter of weeks.
While the treatment is still in the testing phase, the Food and Drug Administration is adapting the treatment for use with humans. In each test case, the cancer cells have been removed, without a trace, from each of the human test subjects. It is entirely probable that cancer will be eradicated by the end of 2010. The creation of the Protein Resistant Nuclei prompted Beretta to become the first veterinarian to win the Nobel Peace Prize.
Why have you not heard about this? The answer is very simple. In 1973, when Beretta’s mother learned that she was pregnant, she decided that having a baby would ruin her career path, so she had an abortion at the age of 19. When she did so, she forever altered the course of human events. Because Beretta was never born, Private Morgan, a father of twins, and a devoted husband, died from exsanguination resulting from a leg wound when he was in boot camp in Georgia. His daughters grew up without a father and became wards of the state when Mrs. Morgan committed suicide following her husband’s death. She couldn’t bear to go on without him.
Because Beretta wasn’t there to save the Iraqi boy from the grenade, Hassani died. Hassani would have been the man who would later work as an intelligence operative with the CIA, and who would locate a hidden lab in Iran where scientists were developing weapons grade smallpox. Because Hassani died as a boy, over 1500 US soldiers were exposed to the smallpox during the second Gulf war and each died from that exposure.
Because Beretta wasn’t born, he was unable to develop the cure for cancer, which was derived from a unique treatment used to cure eye cancer in a race horse.
Why haven’t you heard about Bootless Beretta Haggard? Because abortion was made legal through a monumental court case called Roe v. Wade on January 22, 1973.
Monday, July 27, 2009
The Prayer of Cyrus Brown
The Prayer of Cyrus Brown
by Sam Walter Foss
“The proper way for a man to pray,”
Said Deacon Lemuel Keyes,
“And the only proper attitude
Is down upon his knees.”
“No, I should say the way to pray,”
Said Reverend Doctor Wise,
“Is standing straight with outstretched arms
And rapt and upturned eyes.”
“Oh, no, no, no,” said Elder Slow,
“Such posture is too proud.
A man should pray with eyes fast-closed
And head contritely bowed.”
“It seems to me his hand should be
Austerely clasped in front
With both thumbs pointing toward the ground,”
Said Reverend Doctor Blunt.
“Well, I pray while resting every day,”
Said Mr. Henry Pack.
“So I should think you say your prayers
While lying on your back.”
“Last year I fell in Murphy’s well—
Headfirst,” said Cyrus Brown.
“With both my knees a’stickin’ up
And my head a’pointin’ down.”
“And I made a prayer right then and there,
The best prayer I ever said,
The prayingest prayer I ever prayed,
A’standing on my head.”
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Breakfast For Two
This is a repeat for me, but I like it and I wanted to run it again...
The fine China rattled as breakfast was being prepared in the kitchen. Beatrice carried a stack of plates into the dining room, where Joe sat sipping a cup of coffee. As was tradition, he never looked up while the places were set, but sat brooding over his newspaper.
Joe and Beatrice had been married for thirty years and their routine was almost a work of art. Joe was always the first to arise in the morning, as he was the product of too many years of reporting for work by 7:00 AM. While he stood in front of his shaving mirror, his whistling would stir Beatrice, who would make her way into the kitchen and plug in the old coffee pot. She would stir around the house while Joe dressed, then she would crack open eggs for their family meal.
Jackie was the hardest of their four children to wake up, but in recent months, she had ballet practice earlier than normal, which forced her out of bed with minimal fighting. Jimmy, her twin brother, was very much like his father. He would rise before the sun so he could share the paper with Poppa and brush over a chapter in his text book for a morning test. Joe immensely enjoyed sharing his morning paper with Jimmy. Every day, Little Jim would peek around the corner while prying his foot into an already tied shoe and say, “what’s in the Wall Street this morning, Poppa?” He would then sit down in front of the sports, which was neatly folded by his breakfast plate.
Things were quiet this morning—too quiet. Joe sat by himself as he read the best analyst’s predictions of a bull market. He placed his cup on the corner of the table, and in a few minutes, he could hear fresh coffee being poured. “Thanks, my Love.”
“Always a pleasure to serve.” She held the pot in one hand and reached over his shoulder with the other and rubbed his chest vigorously. He grunted at her and then tried to bite her hand, which she withdrew in a shriek and said, “Don’t make me pour this coffee down your neck. So help me, I’ll do it.” She then proudly waggled back into the kitchen while Joe watched and whistled as her shapely figure disappeared around the corner. “Now there goes a fine woman, Jimmy. You’ll do good to find such a woman for yourself.” After an awkward silence, Joe looked over his paper and saw the sports section lying by Jimmy’s plate—untouched.
Joe frowned at himself for his thoughtless routine and stared at the empty plate. Things were not the same around here. Their charming tradition was about to change; in fact, it had already changed. This was their first weekday after the twins had gone to college. Joe had taken last week off work so he and Beatrice could drive to Michigan with the kids and help them settle into the dorms. Hillsdale College was an even stronger family tradition for the Langley family. Each of the men in the family had attended and graduated Hillsdale from the very first year it opened in 1844. None of the women in the family enrolled until Joe’s eldest daughter, Juliet, attended in the 80’s. In fact, Hillsdale was where Joe met Beatrice. They were in the same freshmen class, even though they rarely took the same courses…
Joe’s thoughts were suddenly closed as he realized that Beatrice was crying in the kitchen. The paper hardly hit the floor when he poked his head around the corner and saw her huddled over the stove holding a towel to her eyes.
“Bea?” He asked softly.
“Oh, I’ve ruined everything.” She folded the hand towel twice and pointed at the skillet. A large Spanish omelet sizzled in the pan, complete with sautéed onions, diced tomatoes, and small pieces of corn tortilla strips. There was enough food to feed 4 people.
Joe reached and pulled her to him as she buried her head into his chest and wept. She missed the kids. This was the first time in their marriage, save the first ten months, that they had no children underfoot. Joe felt the same longing in his heart, but it wasn’t his way to cry. He became quiet and still, and reached to turn off the burner on the stovetop. After a long minute, Beatrice sniffled and retreated to her omelet. “Oh, look at that. I’ve ruined breakfast.”
“Nonsense. I like it like that. Now let’s eat before it gets cold.”
She nodded meekly and gently sliced the omelet into 4 parts, dishing 2 pieces into their plates. She placed a bowl of salsa next to Joe’s coffee cup and began to butter her toast.
“Sit down, my Love. Eat breakfast with me.” Joe reached for her hand and she settled into her chair, placing her toast on the edge of her plate.
“You need more coffee,” she blurted out and bolted to her feet.
“No, I’m fine. Sit back down and relax for a moment.”
“I can’t let you eat breakfast without coffee.”
“I’ve endured worse in life. Now sit down.”
“But I need to start the dishes.”
“We haven’t even started to eat yet.”
“I can’t enjoy my meal if there’s a mess in the kitchen.”
“Dear, please sit with me…” His voice failed and he stared at his plate.
“Oh.” She touched her lips as concern flooded over her. “What’s wrong?”
For a moment he was silent and he drew a deep breath. “It’s just that, well…It’s too quiet. Look what a fool I am. I went and folded the sports section and placed it there for Jimmy to read.”
“Yes, right next to the plate I placed there for him.” She slowly settled into her chair. “I just miss the kids, I guess.”
“I never realized I was so comfortable around them until they were gone.” He sipped his cold coffee. “I wasted all those years.”
“Wasted? What are you talking about?”
“All those breakfasts we ate, all those mornings we sat in silence, I could have been telling the kids how much I loved them and how proud I was of them.”
She frowned. “Oh, Poppa, you did tell them those things.”
He stared into the depths of his black coffee. “Not nearly enough.”
“Nonsense. You sat quietly each morning because the kids were comfortable in the fact that you loved them and that you were proud of them. They were content just being with you. You were there for them in every way.” She stood to her feet. “They enjoyed the quiet mornings as much as you did. I think it was like a sanctuary for them, like the calm before the storm.” She walked into the kitchen and emerged with a fresh cup of coffee. “There. Now drink your coffee and be happy.”
“Thank you, my Love.”
She frowned. “At least you still have your work to go to today,” she said shortly.
He looked at her. “What does that mean?”
“Nothing.”
“Oh, come on! I’m not going to bear my weakness and let you slide by without a thought.”
She sat on the very corner of her chair. “I’m just glad you have a good job that helps sustain our family.”
Joe sat silently and waited on Beatrice, as he learned to do so many years before. It was her way to prime the well, if you will. She would give part of her thought, which would be complete at first glance, but she really wanted Joe to investigate her, to make an effort to hear what she wanted to say. “I do have a good job,” he finally offered.
“Oh,” she started. “I do know it’s a good job…”
He placed his hand over hers. “But?”
“But what am I supposed to do?”
“What are you supposed to do? What does that mean?” He frowned as he realized his voice had more edge to it than he intended. Her statement was so unexpected that he reacted rather than acted. He was expecting her to be after him to retire, just as they had always talked. After the kids were gone to college, Joe would retire and they would travel the country, becoming camping nomads. Now he could tell by her sunken shoulders that she was starting to close her emotions to him. “I’m sorry. You just surprised me, that’s all. What do you mean?” He picked up the hand he was covering and gently rubbed her knuckles.
“You have a place in life. You’ve had the same job for thirty some odd years. Every morning it’s the same for you. You get up, eat breakfast, go to work, come home, and spend time with the family. That hasn’t changed much. You will still do all of those things that you have done for so long. But…” she sniffled. “What am I supposed to do?”
Joe rose to his feet and walked across the room to a Kleenex box on a corner table. He handed her a tissue and returned to his seat in silence. Beatrice dabbed tears from her eyes and began to twist the tissue into a long, thin snake. “Every day, I got up and fixed breakfast for you and the kids. Then I helped prepare homework, drive someone someplace, repair a torn skirt, fix someone’s hair, bake cupcakes for a fundraiser, go to a ballgame, chase down a prom dress, cry over a lost boyfriend, rehearse play lines…” She shrank into her chair and wept again, frail and vulnerable. “What am I supposed to do now—now that those days are gone?”
Joe sipped his coffee and handed another Kleenex across the table. Several seconds of unawkward silence passed. “Do you remember the summer I had to work in Alaska for 3 months?” He leaned back in his chair.
Her face brightened at the memory. “Oh, do I! That was the best year ever. I hated to leave.” She examined his face. “Do you think we might go back?”
“I imagine we’ll return to Alaska many more times, but do you remember how much the kids hated Alaska when we first arrived?”
She smiled. “They were miserable.”
“They were horribly miserable. They sat around and moped for days. They kept whining about how they missed their friends, and how they wanted to go to the movies or do something that was fun.”
“But we were miles and miles from any theater.”
“Or malls.”
She laughed quietly. “Or malls. They thought they had died and their lives were over.” She sat upright. “They couldn’t just drive back to town, either. We had to fly in and land on a lake. I thought Juliet was going bananas with boredom.”
“Well, that’s exactly what they did. They just sat around and cried because everything was changed. They didn’t know anyone. They didn’t have anywhere to go. They didn’t have any of the things they were used to having. But, what they failed to notice was that they were in Alaska, the most beautiful place on Earth.”
“Oh, it was so pretty. We must return this summer.”
“I’d love to go back.” He sipped his coffee. “Well, if you remember, I sat down with Little Jim and explained how he was doing everything wrong. He was waiting for the world to come to him, rather than going out and finding the world. I told him about gold mines to be discovered and caves to be explored. I gave him a copy of Jack London’s Call of the Wild, which he inhaled, and his whole perspective changed. He went out the next morning and found a beaver dam; he was so excited about finding that silly old dam, but he caught the vision. Suddenly, the great outdoors swung wide open, and he was alive. The next day he was piddling down at the creek and found a little, bitty, flake of gold, which he brought home as if it was the Heisman Trophy. That day, the girls caught the vision and I got them some gold panning equipment and they started an enterprise. They hardly found anything but dust, but they were finally happy. When that played out, Jimmy discovered fly fishing and off they’d go!”
Beatrice laughed. “We actually had to make them stop bringing home all those fish. We had trout for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.” She stared up at the ceiling. “What I would give to eat some of that trout again.”
“But it all started when they caught the vision of something out there that was bigger than they were. Suddenly, being miles away from home and in completely unfamiliar territory was a challenge instead of a curse. They went out and found the world instead of waiting for something to happen to them.” He folded his newspaper and pushed back his chair. “It’s about time for me to get going.” She leaned forward and kissed him; it was a long kiss. “Woman, you make a man wish he didn’t have to work everyday.”
“But if you don’t, then we will never get back to Alaska, so, get out of my house.”
He grinned at her and walked through the front door. Beatrice sat and stirred her coffee absentmindedly. For thirty minutes, she sat in silence and then stood and walked into the kitchen and picked up the phone. “Blanche? This is Bea. Good morning to you, too. Well, we had a good trip, but it was hard to leave the kids. They didn’t want us to leave, either. Yes, it is quiet here at the house, but I was thinking. Do you remember in the church bulletin about how they were looking for volunteers to help at the Senior Center? Well, I wondered if you and I might…”
Breatfast For Two
The fine China rattled as breakfast was being prepared in the kitchen. Beatrice carried a stack of plates into the dining room, where Joe sat sipping a cup of coffee. As was tradition, he never looked up while the places were set, but sat brooding over his newspaper.
Joe and Beatrice had been married for thirty years and their routine was almost a work of art. Joe was always the first to arise in the morning, as he was the product of too many years of reporting for work by 7:00 AM. While he stood in front of his shaving mirror, his whistling would stir Beatrice, who would make her way into the kitchen and plug in the old coffee pot. She would stir around the house while Joe dressed, then she would crack open eggs for their family meal.
Jackie was the hardest of their four children to wake up, but in recent months, she had ballet practice earlier than normal, which forced her out of bed with minimal fighting. Jimmy, her twin brother, was very much like his father. He would rise before the sun so he could share the paper with Poppa and brush over a chapter in his text book for a morning test. Joe immensely enjoyed sharing his morning paper with Jimmy. Every day, Little Jim would peek around the corner while prying his foot into an already tied shoe and say, “what’s in the Wall Street this morning, Poppa?” He would then sit down in front of the sports, which was neatly folded by his breakfast plate.
Things were quiet this morning—too quiet. Joe sat by himself as he read the best analyst’s predictions of a bull market. He placed his cup on the corner of the table, and in a few minutes, he could hear fresh coffee being poured. “Thanks, my Love.”
“Always a pleasure to serve.” She held the pot in one hand and reached over his shoulder with the other and rubbed his chest vigorously. He grunted at her and then tried to bite her hand, which she withdrew in a shriek and said, “Don’t make me pour this coffee down your neck. So help me, I’ll do it.” She then proudly waggled back into the kitchen while Joe watched and whistled as her shapely figure disappeared around the corner. “Now there goes a fine woman, Jimmy. You’ll do good to find such a woman for yourself.” After an awkward silence, Joe looked over his paper and saw the sports section lying by Jimmy’s plate—untouched.
Joe frowned at himself for his thoughtless routine and stared at the empty plate. Things were not the same around here. Their charming tradition was about to change; in fact, it had already changed. This was their first weekday after the twins had gone to college. Joe had taken last week off work so he and Beatrice could drive to Michigan with the kids and help them settle into the dorms. Hillsdale College was an even stronger family tradition for the Langley family. Each of the men in the family had attended and graduated Hillsdale from the very first year it opened in 1844. None of the women in the family enrolled until Joe’s eldest daughter, Juliet, attended in the 80’s. In fact, Hillsdale was where Joe met Beatrice. They were in the same freshmen class, even though they rarely took the same courses…
Joe’s thoughts were suddenly closed as he realized that Beatrice was crying in the kitchen. The paper hardly hit the floor when he poked his head around the corner and saw her huddled over the stove holding a towel to her eyes.
“Bea?” He asked softly.
“Oh, I’ve ruined everything.” She folded the hand towel twice and pointed at the skillet. A large Spanish omelet sizzled in the pan, complete with sautéed onions, diced tomatoes, and small pieces of corn tortilla strips. There was enough food to feed 4 people.
Joe reached and pulled her to him as she buried her head into his chest and wept. She missed the kids. This was the first time in their marriage, save the first ten months, that they had no children underfoot. Joe felt the same longing in his heart, but it wasn’t his way to cry. He became quiet and still, and reached to turn off the burner on the stovetop. After a long minute, Beatrice sniffled and retreated to her omelet. “Oh, look at that. I’ve ruined breakfast.”
“Nonsense. I like it like that. Now let’s eat before it gets cold.”
She nodded meekly and gently sliced the omelet into 4 parts, dishing 2 pieces into their plates. She placed a bowl of salsa next to Joe’s coffee cup and began to butter her toast.
“Sit down, my Love. Eat breakfast with me.” Joe reached for her hand and she settled into her chair, placing her toast on the edge of her plate.
“You need more coffee,” she blurted out and bolted to her feet.
“No, I’m fine. Sit back down and relax for a moment.”
“I can’t let you eat breakfast without coffee.”
“I’ve endured worse in life. Now sit down.”
“But I need to start the dishes.”
“We haven’t even started to eat yet.”
“I can’t enjoy my meal if there’s a mess in the kitchen.”
“Dear, please sit with me…” His voice failed and he stared at his plate.
“Oh.” She touched her lips as concern flooded over her. “What’s wrong?”
For a moment he was silent and he drew a deep breath. “It’s just that, well…It’s too quiet. Look what a fool I am. I went and folded the sports section and placed it there for Jimmy to read.”
“Yes, right next to the plate I placed there for him.” She slowly settled into her chair. “I just miss the kids, I guess.”
“I never realized I was so comfortable around them until they were gone.” He sipped his cold coffee. “I wasted all those years.”
“Wasted? What are you talking about?”
“All those breakfasts we ate, all those mornings we sat in silence, I could have been telling the kids how much I loved them and how proud I was of them.”
She frowned. “Oh, Poppa, you did tell them those things.”
He stared into the depths of his black coffee. “Not nearly enough.”
“Nonsense. You sat quietly each morning because the kids were comfortable in the fact that you loved them and that you were proud of them. They were content just being with you. You were there for them in every way.” She stood to her feet. “They enjoyed the quiet mornings as much as you did. I think it was like a sanctuary for them, like the calm before the storm.” She walked into the kitchen and emerged with a fresh cup of coffee. “There. Now drink your coffee and be happy.”
“Thank you, my Love.”
She frowned. “At least you still have your work to go to today,” she said shortly.
He looked at her. “What does that mean?”
“Nothing.”
“Oh, come on! I’m not going to bear my weakness and let you slide by without a thought.”
She sat on the very corner of her chair. “I’m just glad you have a good job that helps sustain our family.”
Joe sat silently and waited on Beatrice, as he learned to do so many years before. It was her way to prime the well, if you will. She would give part of her thought, which would be complete at first glance, but she really wanted Joe to investigate her, to make an effort to hear what she wanted to say. “I do have a good job,” he finally offered.
“Oh,” she started. “I do know it’s a good job…”
He placed his hand over hers. “But?”
“But what am I supposed to do?”
“What are you supposed to do? What does that mean?” He frowned as he realized his voice had more edge to it than he intended. Her statement was so unexpected that he reacted rather than acted. He was expecting her to be after him to retire, just as they had always talked. After the kids were gone to college, Joe would retire and they would travel the country, becoming camping nomads. Now he could tell by her sunken shoulders that she was starting to close her emotions to him. “I’m sorry. You just surprised me, that’s all. What do you mean?” He picked up the hand he was covering and gently rubbed her knuckles.
“You have a place in life. You’ve had the same job for thirty some odd years. Every morning it’s the same for you. You get up, eat breakfast, go to work, come home, and spend time with the family. That hasn’t changed much. You will still do all of those things that you have done for so long. But…” she sniffled. “What am I supposed to do?”
Joe rose to his feet and walked across the room to a Kleenex box on a corner table. He handed her a tissue and returned to his seat in silence. Beatrice dabbed tears from her eyes and began to twist the tissue into a long, thin snake. “Every day, I got up and fixed breakfast for you and the kids. Then I helped prepare homework, drive someone someplace, repair a torn skirt, fix someone’s hair, bake cupcakes for a fundraiser, go to a ballgame, chase down a prom dress, cry over a lost boyfriend, rehearse play lines…” She shrank into her chair and wept again, frail and vulnerable. “What am I supposed to do now—now that those days are gone?”
Joe sipped his coffee and handed another Kleenex across the table. Several seconds of unawkward silence passed. “Do you remember the summer I had to work in Alaska for 3 months?” He leaned back in his chair.
Her face brightened at the memory. “Oh, do I! That was the best year ever. I hated to leave.” She examined his face. “Do you think we might go back?”
“I imagine we’ll return to Alaska many more times, but do you remember how much the kids hated Alaska when we first arrived?”
She smiled. “They were miserable.”
“They were horribly miserable. They sat around and moped for days. They kept whining about how they missed their friends, and how they wanted to go to the movies or do something that was fun.”
“But we were miles and miles from any theater.”
“Or malls.”
She laughed quietly. “Or malls. They thought they had died and their lives were over.” She sat upright. “They couldn’t just drive back to town, either. We had to fly in and land on a lake. I thought Juliet was going bananas with boredom.”
“Well, that’s exactly what they did. They just sat around and cried because everything was changed. They didn’t know anyone. They didn’t have anywhere to go. They didn’t have any of the things they were used to having. But, what they failed to notice was that they were in Alaska, the most beautiful place on Earth.”
“Oh, it was so pretty. We must return this summer.”
“I’d love to go back.” He sipped his coffee. “Well, if you remember, I sat down with Little Jim and explained how he was doing everything wrong. He was waiting for the world to come to him, rather than going out and finding the world. I told him about gold mines to be discovered and caves to be explored. I gave him a copy of Jack London’s Call of the Wild, which he inhaled, and his whole perspective changed. He went out the next morning and found a beaver dam; he was so excited about finding that silly old dam, but he caught the vision. Suddenly, the great outdoors swung wide open, and he was alive. The next day he was piddling down at the creek and found a little, bitty, flake of gold, which he brought home as if it was the Heisman Trophy. That day, the girls caught the vision and I got them some gold panning equipment and they started an enterprise. They hardly found anything but dust, but they were finally happy. When that played out, Jimmy discovered fly fishing and off they’d go!”
Beatrice laughed. “We actually had to make them stop bringing home all those fish. We had trout for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.” She stared up at the ceiling. “What I would give to eat some of that trout again.”
“But it all started when they caught the vision of something out there that was bigger than they were. Suddenly, being miles away from home and in completely unfamiliar territory was a challenge instead of a curse. They went out and found the world instead of waiting for something to happen to them.” He folded his newspaper and pushed back his chair. “It’s about time for me to get going.” She leaned forward and kissed him; it was a long kiss. “Woman, you make a man wish he didn’t have to work everyday.”
“But if you don’t, then we will never get back to Alaska, so, get out of my house.”
He grinned at her and walked through the front door. Beatrice sat and stirred her coffee absentmindedly. For thirty minutes, she sat in silence and then stood and walked into the kitchen and picked up the phone. “Blanche? This is Bea. Good morning to you, too. Well, we had a good trip, but it was hard to leave the kids. They didn’t want us to leave, either. Yes, it is quiet here at the house, but I was thinking. Do you remember in the church bulletin about how they were looking for volunteers to help at the Senior Center? Well, I wondered if you and I might…”
Monday, July 13, 2009
Regarding Harry Potter
This week, the 6th movie in the Harry Potter series, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, will hit theaters nationwide, and it is eagerly anticipated by casual viewers and die hard fans alike. When the Harry Potter phenomenon occurred, like so many of my counterparts, I immediately dismissed the boy wizard and proclaimed his blatant danger to the world. Once, I even supported a Harry Potter book burning party. That was my position for years.
That changed a couple of years ago. A friend of mine heard me lambast the series and challenged me with words along the line of: “Have you actually read the books that you so readily condemn?” Well, I had to answer honestly. No, I had not. So, while we were taking a road trip from New Mexico to San Diego, we bought the first book in the series, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone, which my wife read aloud as we drove. For several hundred miles, I braced myself to re-enforce my hatred for all things evil, only I had trouble doing so. Instead of the dark, evil sorcery that I imagined, I discovered a young man who was abused as a child, who had loyal, deserving friends, who willingly stood up for good virtues—even at great personal cost, and who openly defied evil. I found a boy who was a bit awkward and rather ordinary, who was thrust into being a hero simply because someone had to do it.
I was quick to note that the magic that existed in Harry’s world was not a result of summoning evil powers nor was it occultic by nature. Rather, it was the normal way of life for this fictional reality. I had to equate it to reading my kids fairy tales that taught a moral, or to the Chronicles of Narnia. The characters never once sought Satan for power; they simply had an ability to perform acts that ordinary people didn’t. Now, please note that I’m not endorsing the exploration of magic or magical things, but I am allowing for a distinction between Harry Potter’s world and the overt witchcraft of our reality.
What Harry’s creator, J.K. Rowling, has done, is create a world where obvious good and blatant evil exist—and the two are not mutually compatible. Rowling endorses the virtue of love, parenting, friendship, loyalty, doing the right thing, and seeking the best in people. All the while, she condemns evil and the fruits thereof. She even paints a picture that those who practice evil are known as “Death Eaters.”
Rowling does lean toward a humanistic approach when she allows that Harry has the capacity for love from within himself. The Biblical Worldview holds that we have the ability to love because God first loved us. However, Rowling never attempts to undermine traditional Judeo-Christian ethics, nor does she cast a shadow over Christianity. In fact, she politely observes the celebration of Christmas and allows references to sin as a bad element. She does not endorse Christianity, nor does she attack it. It is a neutral topic.
To me, the Harry Potter story is immensely important. It chronicles the suffering and destruction that occurs when one’s heart is evil, and it demonstrates how that evil oppresses the good. It demonstrates how evil triumphs when good men do nothing to stop it, content to ignore it for the moment. It also accounts that good will overcome evil, it only needs an ordinary man to take a stand. While it may be true that the story line grows darker with each installment, it should be recognized that the story becomes more desperate for relief from oppression.
The character of Harry Potter is a flawed boy who struggles with all the things other ordinary boys face. He is frightened by things that any rational person would be frightened by. He has a gracious and forgiving heart, and he struggles with forgiving those who seek to hurt him. Rowling does a remarkable job of making him an ordinary boy.
Now, I’m raising an ordinary boy in my own home. He is bombarded with anti-American influences, anti-Christian influences, and anti-family influences. If he can find inspiration through the courage displayed by Harry Potter, then I think he will be better off for it. In truth, I’d rather my son be influenced by Harry Potter than by Bart Simpson or Dennis Rodman. Except for the lack of Christian references, Harry Potter reflects many of the character values I hold dear. I can work with my son over the harmless spells and magical references in the story line. In fact, I openly welcome those conversations, for it gives me yet another avenue to re-instill my own Biblical Worldview into his life. I’ll readily embrace that, Biblically speaking, to participate in the world of witchcraft brings death rather than a fuller life (1 Sam. 28:6-18, Is. 8:19 and 47:12-14). That's more than enough reason for my family to watch the movies together and use them as a teaching tool, rather than hide from them hoping they go away.
That changed a couple of years ago. A friend of mine heard me lambast the series and challenged me with words along the line of: “Have you actually read the books that you so readily condemn?” Well, I had to answer honestly. No, I had not. So, while we were taking a road trip from New Mexico to San Diego, we bought the first book in the series, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone, which my wife read aloud as we drove. For several hundred miles, I braced myself to re-enforce my hatred for all things evil, only I had trouble doing so. Instead of the dark, evil sorcery that I imagined, I discovered a young man who was abused as a child, who had loyal, deserving friends, who willingly stood up for good virtues—even at great personal cost, and who openly defied evil. I found a boy who was a bit awkward and rather ordinary, who was thrust into being a hero simply because someone had to do it.
I was quick to note that the magic that existed in Harry’s world was not a result of summoning evil powers nor was it occultic by nature. Rather, it was the normal way of life for this fictional reality. I had to equate it to reading my kids fairy tales that taught a moral, or to the Chronicles of Narnia. The characters never once sought Satan for power; they simply had an ability to perform acts that ordinary people didn’t. Now, please note that I’m not endorsing the exploration of magic or magical things, but I am allowing for a distinction between Harry Potter’s world and the overt witchcraft of our reality.
What Harry’s creator, J.K. Rowling, has done, is create a world where obvious good and blatant evil exist—and the two are not mutually compatible. Rowling endorses the virtue of love, parenting, friendship, loyalty, doing the right thing, and seeking the best in people. All the while, she condemns evil and the fruits thereof. She even paints a picture that those who practice evil are known as “Death Eaters.”
Rowling does lean toward a humanistic approach when she allows that Harry has the capacity for love from within himself. The Biblical Worldview holds that we have the ability to love because God first loved us. However, Rowling never attempts to undermine traditional Judeo-Christian ethics, nor does she cast a shadow over Christianity. In fact, she politely observes the celebration of Christmas and allows references to sin as a bad element. She does not endorse Christianity, nor does she attack it. It is a neutral topic.
To me, the Harry Potter story is immensely important. It chronicles the suffering and destruction that occurs when one’s heart is evil, and it demonstrates how that evil oppresses the good. It demonstrates how evil triumphs when good men do nothing to stop it, content to ignore it for the moment. It also accounts that good will overcome evil, it only needs an ordinary man to take a stand. While it may be true that the story line grows darker with each installment, it should be recognized that the story becomes more desperate for relief from oppression.
The character of Harry Potter is a flawed boy who struggles with all the things other ordinary boys face. He is frightened by things that any rational person would be frightened by. He has a gracious and forgiving heart, and he struggles with forgiving those who seek to hurt him. Rowling does a remarkable job of making him an ordinary boy.Now, I’m raising an ordinary boy in my own home. He is bombarded with anti-American influences, anti-Christian influences, and anti-family influences. If he can find inspiration through the courage displayed by Harry Potter, then I think he will be better off for it. In truth, I’d rather my son be influenced by Harry Potter than by Bart Simpson or Dennis Rodman. Except for the lack of Christian references, Harry Potter reflects many of the character values I hold dear. I can work with my son over the harmless spells and magical references in the story line. In fact, I openly welcome those conversations, for it gives me yet another avenue to re-instill my own Biblical Worldview into his life. I’ll readily embrace that, Biblically speaking, to participate in the world of witchcraft brings death rather than a fuller life (1 Sam. 28:6-18, Is. 8:19 and 47:12-14). That's more than enough reason for my family to watch the movies together and use them as a teaching tool, rather than hide from them hoping they go away.
Monday, June 29, 2009
Dreaming
Dreaming
Walter was driving a car that was out of control. He was on a winding mountain road one minute, and then suddenly his car swerved through a curve. He broke through the guardrail and was plummeting down a mountain slope at a breakneck speed. The aspen trees at the end of a meadow seemed to bend sideways in an effort to avoid a collision when suddenly the car lifted from the ground and soared over the tops of the trees, his wheels slapping the leaves underneath him. His car-turned-airplane was climbing so rapidly that the tall mountains now seemed small to him. He banked to the right and lost control of his car again. This time he was falling. Faster and faster until he was nose diving into the same meadow. Suddenly, a cliff loomed in front of him and his car smashed mercilessly into the cliff and erupted into a ball of flame.
Walter sat up in bed, his hair soaked with sweat. He was trembling from his dream. Every night was the same. The same dream. The same results. The same death. Every night for a week he died in the same miserable accident.
It all started with the evangelist who pointed an accusing finger at him and said, “You never know when God will call your name. You never know when your life will end. You might die in a car accident on your way home tonight. If you have not repented of your sins, you had better do so now. If you wait even a few minutes, you might be waiting too long. To delay only means that you are storing up more of God’s wrath against you on the Day of Judgment. For you see, you will have to give an account of your life when you die….”
The evangelist had scared him. Walter was a sinful man, and he enjoyed his sinful life very much. Not many people had experienced as much in life as he had—and he wanted more. At first he had laughed at the preacher for saying that he, Walter, really didn’t enjoy his sinful life. Ridiculous! He experienced wine, women, and song daily. He was rich and he could afford every vice that could be purchased. He didn’t have to seek out women; they sought him. He was strong and good-looking and he had more sex than most movie stars. As of yet, he had not grown tired of it. He loved his pleasures and he planned on enjoying his life as long as he could continue to roll the dice. He expected to die of AIDS some day, but that was later. Much, much later. Today he was young and wanted to live it up. His father had died of a heart attack at the age of 40. Walter knew that most men in his family died young and wanted to enjoy himself before it was too late.
Sure, he enjoyed his pleasure, but he didn’t want to stand responsible for any of it—especially before God. That part bothered him. That and the part about dying unexpectedly. Was it time for him to settle down? Was it time to quit playing games with God?
He crawled out of his bed and looked at…Veronica? He didn’t remember her name. She was just another delicious dish that threw herself into his bed. She was gorgeous. Sure, he could turn his back on sin, but why? Why give up girls like Veronica? There were so many more out there. Tomorrow it might be Christy, or maybe Linda. He remembered a girl named Linda…and her sister! Wow! The boys at the club slapped him on the back for that. He couldn’t give it up. It was too good to stop. God could jump in the lake as far as he was concerned.
He walked into the kitchen and downed a glass of water. He drank too much last night and his mouth was dry and his eyes blurry. He sat on the couch in the lower den and scowled at the couple who had passed out and sleeping on the floor under his coffee table. He didn’t even know who they were, but it didn’t matter. During the night, one of them had vomited on his carpet and they were sleeping in it. But, they had a good time. And a good time is the only thing that will last—if you have enough money, that is. He stared out of the huge bay window and watched the moon set over the ocean, and then went back to his bedroom. Veronica had turned over and he stared at her naked body. No, he was not ready to give up and turn to God. He just loved his sin too much. He tried to wake her up, but she was too drunk to rouse. How much did she smoke and drink last night? Disappointed, he fell asleep.
Hours later he heard the floorboard creaking in his room and he rolled over. Suddenly, the hair on his neck prickled and he was staring at a dark figure next to his bed. The man wore a mask and was holding a gun, a gun that was pointing at Walter’s head. Walter tried to speak, but his voice was gone. His heart was beating so fast that he was growing dizzy. He tried to kick his feet, but he couldn’t wake up.
The figure continued to move toward him, extending the gun toward his temple. Walter tried again to cry out, but his voice was failing him. Wake up! He kept telling himself, then the gun touched his forehead and he felt the cold steel press into his skin. He wasn’t dreaming!
The voice was gruff and it scared him even more than he already was. “Is your name Walter?” He couldn’t respond. He only nodded his head. “Is that Veronica?” Again, Walter nodded. “Well, guess what, Playboy? I hope you are prepared to meet God, ‘cause you are on your way.” Walter saw his finger tighten on the gun, but never felt the bullet that sent him into eternity.
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