How to Send Gifts to American Soldiers in Iraq

Imagine that you are far from home for an extended length of time. Imagine also that you have limited opportunities to speak on the phone with your mother, father, siblings, spouse, sweetheart or children. While you ’re at it, imagine you walk daily in harm’s way as you try to do what you believe in your heart is the right thing to do.

You have now placed yourself in the boots of an American Soldier. Not a pleasant fit is it? I know their being absent from loved ones is a stressful thing. And I know too, they carry this stress in their hearts as well as their minds. All the while trying to stay alive and concentrate on their mission. But they do it everyday, and they do it for us: those far away on American soil.

It’s never easy leaving small children for any length of time. But soldiers must do it and so they miss many of the first things their children do. The first word, first step, first tooth, first home-run, first recital and report cards each year. A Soldier gives up this and much more to serve his or her country.

They are not there for bonding and for sharing in the daily triumphs and failures of their child. Children grow so quickly that the mom’s and dad’s on deployment miss much that the rest of us take for granted.

Many Soldiers are not there when their children are born. How hard to know that half a world away the woman you love is giving birth to the child you helped to create and she is alone. The child is often several months old before the dad ever holds them for the first time. Can you imagine what it must be like, how it must feel, to hold your own child and them not know you? To see no hint of recognition in their eyes must hurt.

Can you imagine how lonely our Soldiers can be? Can you imagine holidays with no loved ones present?Do you know how grateful they are for any news from home: a letter, a card, a box of cookies? These things are a connection with home. And we can provide this for so little money and effort.

The Soldiers share the gifts they receive with each other. They are brothers and sisters in a way that we as civilians will never know or understand. They share the danger, the fear, the disappointments and they share the good stuff too.

I know these things because my son is in Iraq and he writes to me about his Solders. I send packages of love to him and to them and the feeling it gives to me is no less wonderful that what they feel when they receive one.

If you have never thought of sending a package to a Soldier or if you have, but don’t know how, now is your chance to make a Soldier smile. There are many sites online that will do it for you at a small cost. However, it is actually fun to shop for treats and package them yourself. It isn’t the item so much as the thought to the Soldiers.

There are also sites that will give you the name and address of a Soldier you can correspond with. Try this one, which gives you the opportunity to adopt a Soldier.

http://soldiersangels.org/

At the following site, you will find an article I wrote about sending gifts to our Soldiers in Iraq. It list items that can be sent and the few that are restricted as well as what is most requested by the Soldiers.

http://www.helium.com/items/826080

It doesn’t matter whether you support the war in Iraq or not. Sending a package says you support them: the men and women who serve this country everyday of their lives. It doesn’t cost a lot. Just a card saying you pray for them will be welcomed. Little snacks will be too.Take the time to give back a little something to the men and women who are giving their all for us as a country. You won’t regret it; in fact, it will make you feel good all over. I know, because I do it.

An American Soldier

The following is an email my son sent me from Iraq where he is stationed. In the course of performing his duties, he travels the length and breadth of Iraq every month if not more often. During the four years he has been there, his eyes have seen it all, up close and personal. The good, the bad and the ugly.

How he or the other young men and women who are serving there, are able to function in such an area, is amazing to me. My heart is moved, each time he send me a fresh batch of photos. I am touched by the heroism and bravery of our forces. I am delighted by the historical and often biblical places he chooses to photograph. I laugh at the antics of Soldiers during their downtime, as they seek to find a lighter moment in a very heavy world.

But, I am most touched by the photos of the children that live in a war torn country. I wonder as I look at each small face if they will grow to adulthood. I wonder if they will have hearts that are filled with hate for America or if they will remember the kind Soldiers, who tried to help them and think this is what all Americans are like.

This picture says they will remember us with trust. However, if we leave there too soon and leave them to the fate that will surely await them, they will remember us with a raging hatred, because we deserted them in a time of need.

I wish I had his ability to write it all down with such eloquence. I could never make the words fall into the right order, as he has, when trying to explain what my heart knows to be true. So, read his words and try to understand that there is much more at stake than the bottom line of the cost of war. There is a way of life at stake, and freedom is not free.

An American Soldier 2/25/08

The Soldier in the above photo is not someone I know. In fact, I cannot make out the unit patch the Soldier is wearing nor do I have a clue where in Iraq this event occurred. But that is all as it should be, because I believe this to be one of those signature photos that define a war.

We’ve all seen the photo of the Sailor kissing the girl in Times Square at the conclusion of WWII, the photo that inspired the Iwo Jima memorial, and the footage and still photo of the execution in the middle of a Saigon street.

These images captured the essence of a war and the feelings and emotion that the war elicited. These types of photos do not necessarily bring about a good feeling about a war, but rather they serve to capture what the war is about…the meaning and the spirit. This photo does that, at least for me, about this war here in Iraq.

If you look closely at this photo, you can see debris from an explosion littering the area. It appears to have been taken in a market area and there are many civilians around. The Iraqi civilians are running away, but not the Soldier. He’s moving toward the danger and looks prepared to engage.

But obviously, the most meaningful part of this photo is the boy hiding behind the Soldier. He’s not running away either, but rather seeking safety behind the Soldier. He obviously trusts the Soldier enough to think that his odds are better behind the Soldier than running away. That is telling in my opinion. This is what this war is about…but many politicians don’t get it, and millions of American’s are equally clueless.

They would have us abandon our efforts and these people….cut our losses…say to the Iraqi people “we tried, but we just couldn’t do it”, or maybe “hey, we were wrong for coming and we’re out of here…this costs too much and we have other priorities.” I do not count myself among that crowd that feels this way.

Why we originally came here is debatable, but it is now an irrelevant and ridiculous discussion. It just doesn’t matter anymore. WE ARE HERE! Our actions left this country and her people unable to protect themselves from outside influences. Those outside influences (read Iran and radical Islamism) want to turn Iraq into an extreme theocracy, and that outcome would be bad for long-term American stability.

If we depart too soon, this country will surely drop into the abyss of civil war and the outcome is questionable. But whatever that outcome, we will leave looking inept and surely, no other nation will EVER trust us again in the foreseeable future, and that can’t be good for American security.

The world will point to the violence that is sure to follow our departure and rightfully blame us. The instability brought about by a premature departure of our military would almost certainly turn large parts of Iraq into a safe haven for terrorist organizations, and that too would be bad for American security. Departing now would also signal weakness to other rogue nations that wish us ill, and again…that would be bad for our security.

I say all of that to make the point that we are here now to further long term American security interest. Our uniforms say “U.S. Army” and we fight for OUR nation, not Iraq. But a residual effect is that we are protecting many people, like the young boy below, who would be victims of the violence that would follow are departure should we leave too soon. This boy obviously believes that the U.S. military is a force for good that will protect him. Otherwise, he would hide behind the Soldier.

So back to why this photo was so striking to me. We can’t tell who the Soldier is, nor even what unit he is from. He is just a Soldier, like the Sailor in Times Square…unknown, but yet representative of the many thousands of other Soldiers. He is not running away, nor does he appear to shrink from whatever danger is nearby. He appears to embody all we as Soldiers hold to be important; bravery, valor, and the willingness to stare down the enemy where he chooses to show himself.

A picture says a thousand words. I guess I added another couple hundred here 🙂

Love, ______

The Answer Came

My thoughts keep coming back to this deal with the illegal immigrates. So, the other day I took the time to really pray about the confusion and fears in my heart about the subject. I then sat and thought for a long while, waiting I guess for an answer that I was not sure would come right away.

I thought back to when the first white man came to America. How we had no regard for the Indian’s way of life and how we did not try to change to be like them, just because we were in their country. However, I expect this of the Hispanics.

I thought about how they had not known a life of security or prosperity. How they must think it could all end at any time with them being sent back to their homeland. Could this be why they work all the overtime they can and not because they are greedy? Are they just making hay while the sun shines? What would I do if our roles in life were reversed?

I thought about how dishonest they are to; not pay a fair share of taxes. How they use food stamps, Medicaid and other social programs designed for the poor, when they are making as much as I am and not even having to pay taxes.

They have the same option as me for buying insurance at work, yet they sponge off the government that allows them to live here. They steal another’s identity and give no thought of the problems it will cause.

Why do they behave this way? Could it be they are afraid of the paper trail that could get them deported? Are they afraid that if they pay for the insurance and then they need to use it, the insurance company will refuse and say they are illegal? Would I not be afraid? Have I never taken what was not mine to take? Have I never told a lie to help myself? Do we not have many lazy Americans cheating us by falsely using the same services that the Hispanics abuse?

I thought about how unclean some of them are. They don’t even know to wash their hands after going to the bathroom or to flush used toilet paper down the commode. Could this be because they grew up in a culture where basic health education had not been ingrained in them since birth? Don’t I know Americans who are just as unsanitary?

I thought of how I hate the hot tortilla smell that fills our break room at lunchtime. Most of their foods, I like. But this smell is repulsive to me. It nearly turns my stomach. But, what do they think of my salmon patties and tuna salad? Would I give up the foods I love if I had to live in Mexico? On the other hand, would I not see these foods as a link to the place I missed?

I thought about how haughty and pride filled some of them are. How they expect you to move out of their way in Walmart. How they allow their children to run wild in stores. Am I free of the guilt of pride? Have I never looked down my nose at another? Are they more permissive with their children because the mortality rate of children is higher in their homeland that it is in America?

All these things I thought about. It kept me from my sleep as I pondered on it and walked a mile in their shoes. The fit was not good. It has left me limping today because I have no answers to offer.

Only this do I know: they are no different from me. They too are flesh and blood. They too laugh and cry, love and hate, give and take. They worship the same, the one and only, God that I do. They too have fears, prejudices, dreams, hopes, desires and aspirations. They too will do whatever it takes to provide for their children, be it lying, cheating or stealing

What has this shown me? That I have been more blessed by God for His own good pleasure. Yes, I have known hard and difficult times in my life also. However, I have never been driven from my home by hunger or poverty. I have never had to watch my child grow up uneducated, or sicken and die because there was no doctor or money to pay one. I have never been drawn to an alien country by a hope for obtaining the very necessities of life.

Yes, I am truly blessed, through no efforts on my part. Living in this country is a blessing. Who am I to set limits on who else can enjoy these same things, freely given to me by God? I have no right at all. Everything belongs to God. This is His earth, His land and His children.

Somewhere, between the extremes of arresting and deporting all illegal immigrants and flinging open the borders, is an answer. We may find it in time; we may not. The world is watching us. They watch to see if we are just all talk or if we are the compassionate people we proclaim ourselves to be.

Are these famous words only that, famous words?

“Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, the wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door.”

Or do they still have meaning? Has the prosperity showered on us by a loving God, made us so selfish we cannot share? Is there no more room in this wide country?

If ever there was a poor person, these Hispanics are they. Not only in money are they poor, but also in all other aspects are they also needy. Many have bowed legs from malnutrition in childhood, bad teeth from lack of hygiene and proper dental care. They have no education, few clothes and nowhere to live.

Many come from small villages where there was no running water, which means no flushable toilets, no electricity, no paved roads and no social services. There was little time for school because it took all family members to raise enough food to live on and there was no money to pay a teacher.

Many fall prey to the exorbitant fees charged by their own people when they first arrive. They need clothes and shoes for work. They are in a strange place without an inkling of the laws or language. It is little wonder they often cheat, steal and lie to get by. I do not say it is right, only that I understand why.

I know a man named Mario who told me of when he first came to America. He had run out of money three days before payday. Another man lent him $3.00 for food, until he received his first paycheck. He ran to a grocery store and spent a long time trying to decide what was the most food he could buy with his money.

He finally picked up a large can with a picture of fried chicken on the front of it. He rushed home with his mouth watering in anticipation of the fried chicken. He quickly opened the can, with a pocketknife, only to find he had purchased a can of Crisco.

He told me with tears in his eyes, how his belly gnawed on its self for the next three days as he searched through the break room trash for scraps to eat. He said this made him determined to learn to speak English. Hunger is a good motivator. Today he speaks it very well.

There are thousands of heart breaking stories like this. Stories of hearing news that a loved mother or father was dying and no money to go to them who were so far away. Stories of a fiancée contracting aids because she had to sell herself for food to feed her brothers and sisters. Their hunger could not wait on the first check from America to arrive. The tragedies are endless.

So, where does this leave me? Wondering how I can begrudge them a place in the land of plenty. It is true they have flooded the job market with workers and that this keeps wages down. We cry it is unfair to American workers. But, is it truly fair for us to have so much and them to have so little? Does this not come under the heading of sharing?

How many of us in America really know needs that are not met? I speak here of the basic needs of life: food, water, clean air, shelter and medical care. Not of new cell phones or more designer clothes. Nor do I speak of bigger homes that house fewer people each year. I speak not of a large nest egg for retirement, which we may or may not live to use. I speak of the needs of the present time, right now.

I have felt rage and hate, pity and compassion by turns. I have been incited to anger when listening to the complaining at work. I was filled with disgust as I watched them march last year, demanding their “rights.” But no more. In one night, my heart has changed. The issue is settled in my heart and I believe it is sanctioned by Christ.

My part is to treat all humans with respect and dignity regardless of race, religion, color or nationality. It is, to be a living example of righteousness, by how I live each day. It is, to deny anger, hate and jealousy a place in my heart. It is, to help anyone in need and to share with anyone who has less than I do. It is, not to allow myself to be drawn into disputes of the crowd, but to stand firm on my beliefs and convictions. It is, not to be afraid and to place my whole, complete trust, not in the hands of the government but in the able hands of God.

Well there you have it. The answer came. I know there will be times I forget and fail, but I know too a God who is forgiving. I most assuredly will fall from grace in the eyes of many and be counted no better than a turncoat or traitor, but such is the price of having a conscience and of following The Way laid out by Christ during His life on earth. God sees and He is watching.

I’ve never really been afraid of being different from the norm. In fact, most of my life I have been so. I only get lost when I take my eyes from Him and listen to the world whine and cry about what is fair. However, as my Daddy always said, “The only fair you will find in life comes to town in the fall for two weeks.” How wise he was.

The Anchor That Holds by Pamela Kay

In these troubled times, we often feel lost, alone, hopeless, useless, doomed and afraid. We do not know where to turn for help or for hope. Friends and family forsake us. Loved ones can be so into themselves that they have no time for us and often find themselves in the same boat with you. But they offer no help. It seems there is nothing safe to hold on to. No anchor in a storm filled life. Jesus is the anchor that holds fast.

Only Jesus can help us. The sands of time flow fast into the bottom half. You can read the times and the signs and see we are on a collision course with destruction. No fortress will be strong enough, no cave deep enough to keep our fate at bay. It comes in great galloping strides to end our existence on this earth. It cannot be stopped. Any who tell you it can be stopped or that this is nothing more than religious drivel, is playing ostrich by hiding their heads in the sand. Pretending something will happen to change things. It never works.

As bleak as the inevitable may be, it is far better to face it than to deny it. If we cannot stop the sands of time, then what can we do? This is the simple part. The hard part was getting to the point of asking this question. The answer is to give your life to Jesus. Get ready for eternal life in heaven with Him.

A lot of the Bible has been proven true. None of it has been proven false though it is often hotly contested. This alone should give one pause to think of the consequences if it is true and you are not ready according to its words when time runs out. Yet sadly, everyday the chasm between mankind and God grows wider as we seek to make gods of ourselves in a futile attempt to be in control.

But God will not be mocked. We are here for His own pleasure. Not meaning fun, but meaning His use or purpose. It does not matter that you do not believe in Him, for He believes in you. He is the Creator and thus has the final say. He has given us warnings, examples and rules to help us live, as He wants His created beings to live. He has His own plan and it will be done as He deems it should be. He even sent His Son to show us. He sent Jesus to us.

So just, who is this Jesus? Well He is the Great I AM, Yahweh, Jehovah, the Son of God, the Alpha and Omega, Lord of lords, King of kings, Savior, Chief cornerstone, Eternal Life, Holy, True, Light of the world, Judge of the living and dead, Lamb of God, Life Eternal, Prophet, Rabbi (teacher), Resurrection, Rock of ages, Root of David, Lion of Judah, Mediator, the Way, the Truth, the Life, and the Word of God.

These are some, of over a hundred, names or titles given to Jesus Christ in the Bible. However, they alone cannot tell you who He is. What I call Him is Friend, Enabler, Savior and Anchor. He is the most important person in my life though my actions do not always reflect this. Family is important, but He is more so. For in His hands rest the fate of my eternal soul. This life is but a wisp of smoke and then it is no more, but eternity is just that: eternal.

Jesus Christ is an enabler. Through Him, I am able to conquer and withstand the onslaught of evil that I confront each day of my life. I am able, through Him: to love those who are not lovable, forgive those who deserve no forgiveness, and have compassion for those who have brought their own house down on their heads by folly. Through Him, I am able to give to the needy, when my own cupboard is almost bare. I am able to smile at others and offer hope and comfort, when inside I weep, for my own pain. Jesus did as much for me.

Jesus Christ is a friend closer than a brother. In Him, I have found a friend like no other. Someone who loves me and is for me, no matter how many times I break His heart with my selfishness, sinfulness or willfulness. He calls me to repentance instead of turning away and giving up on me. I am so precious to Him. He is all the more awesome because He first loved me and did not wait for me to repent, to start loving me, but has known and loved me from the beginning of time.

Jesus Christ is my Savior. I do not deserve the love, grace or mercy of Christ Jesus. It is a gift, from the most powerful person in the universe to me, a very small inconsequential speck in the vastness of creation. How awesome is His perfect way: to give love where none is deserved. To make me worthy by the giving of His own life, so He could love me. Who else, but He, could devise such a perfect plan?

He is also my anchor. There is a song by Ray Boltz entitled “The Anchor Holds.” My reaction to this song is a good definition of who Jesus is to me. Each time I hear this song, I weep. It brings to me a mental picture so real that all else fades away, a vision if you will.

I see me, in a boat close to a rocky shore in the midst of a raging storm. The boat is anchored by a rope in the hands of Jesus, who is on the shore. In the darkness the wind howls, lightening flashes and waves wash over the sides of the boat as it rolls from side to side. I can taste the salt of the water and the blood from a bitten lip. I am tossed and thrown about, bruised and battered, aching and sore, but somehow, my eyes never leave Him. He wears a simple shirtdress of white, which is plastered, to his body by wind and rain as He too is drenched by the ruthless storm. The wind whips His hair against His face and stings His skin. The tightly held rope is cutting into the flesh of His hands, but still He holds to it, with His feet planted firmly and His body leaned back in the struggle. The muscles of His neck and arms are strained, in the flashing light of the storm. He notices none of this; His attention is focused on saving me. I am weeping in this little vision, but not from fear. No, I am weeping because I know I do not deserve what He has done for me, and because the love in my heart for this man is too great to be contained. I trust Him with my life, and because He gave His life to save me; I know that no matter the cost, He will not let go of me, ever.

Why, you may ask, does He allow these storms in my life if He loves me? Can He not, as He did in the Bible, speak the storm into submission? Yes, He can do this. But how then would I ever be able to see just how much He loves me and what a terrible price He paid to save me? No, it is far better that I experience these storms and learn to hold on to Him and trust Him to hold on to me.

I know He is my only hope of salvation. However, He is more than enough, for He is the great I Am. When the storms of this life have reached an ending, He will tow the boat to shore and reach out His hand, welcoming me to eternity with Him. We will remember the storm no more.

The following is the end of a poem I wrote about this mental image I have of Jesus loving me. The whole poem as well as other of my writings can be seen at; http://www.helium.com/tm/495039/jesus-loving-mejesus-temple

My mind just cannot comprehend, that someone could love me so.
That such a price could be paid for me by someone I did not know.
For even when I was lost in the world, too blinded by sin to see
That I had been bought and paid for, Jesus was loving me.

Why 911 will never be “over” by Pamela Kay

Today I posted a comment to a blog that was a review (complete with comments) of a book entitled The World Is Flat by Thomas Friedman. The author seems to think that 911 is over and that we should just get back to life as usual, and stop all of the nonsense about terrorist threats, airport security and government eaves-dropping on suspects. I do think that the government has gone too far in the taking away some of our rights, but there is a thin line between having freedom and protecting it. The following is my comment”

“I am sorry, but you are so wrong. 911 will never be “over” as it has changed life, as we knew it.

There are thousands of things going on in this world, many of which we never hear or see reported on the news because they seem so unimportant to the masses. However, they like 911 are very important indeed. They each take us one-step closer to martial law.

When this happens, we will all look back on the little things that happened as well as the big things that should have been wake up calls. But it will then be too late.”

I wish to elaborate on this comment of mine by asking these questions.

Am I the only one who finds it odd that our government has ignored the illegal immigration of so many unknown people into our country? And that our borders are left so open? What could be the reason for this blinding? Franklin D Roosevelt once said, “In politics, nothing happens by accident. If it happens, you can bet it was planned that way.” Dare we ask could God have a hand in it, to bring about His plan?

Has the escalation of crime in general left you shaking your head in disbelief? Do the organizations that are on the side of criminals and protecting their rights make you want to scream? Could this and the illegal influx, as well as terrorist threats to our country not be a catalyst for martial law being declared in America? How many rights will we have then? Are we satisfied that we helped to put the right person in the White House?

Have you ever heard of or do you know what the organization Echelon is?

http://www.whatreallyhappened.com/RANCHO/POLITICS/ECHELON/echelon.htmlEver hear of the Bilderberg Group? Maybe you should check them out at

Want to know who goes to these yearly group meeting designed to rule the little people?http://www.propagandamatrix.com/watsonrptbilderberg1.html

Ever heard that the way to control a nation is to start with its children and win them over to your way of thinking? Well, think back to what happened during the Vietnam War. Never have our youth been so outspoken or so out of control. I know this because I was there. Those young people who spit on and burned our flag were born in the forties. The forties are when Israel became a nation again, when the Bilderberg Group was being thought up and when they started to take over the minds of our children. It was the beginning of the the last days, spoken of in the Bible. It was the beginning of this country’s downfall.

Does the phrase New World Order not make you quake in your boots? Do you think it is something new? Is this not mentioned in the Bible as coming about in the last days? Does Europe sharing one common monetary system not ring any bells?

Does the escalation of unrest in the Middle East not make you uncomfortable? Even when you acknowledge the fact that they have been fighting among themselves forever, does it not seem strange that this wasteland of dry sand holds something that the whole world wants and needs? Is this just a coincident or is it a part of a much larger plan?

Does the call for the annihilation of Israel not make you think of something you may have heard in Sunday school long ago? Do you ever wonder how this small race of people has held on to their homeland so tenaciously? Has God intervened on their behalf?

Does Russia’s cooling it with the United States not make you wonder what is going on?

Do you know that in China great numbers of male children, born due to sex selection abortions, are now coming of age and that there are 120 men for every 100 women? Sound innocuous? Well for every 1000 men born, there will be 200 with no wife. This is staggering when you consider that China’s population is 1,321,851,888. You do the math. Where will these men find wives? And if marriage is shut to them, what will they do with their lives? Join the military maybe? What could and would China do with such a vast army? Ever heard of such an army, possibly in the last book of the Bible: Revelation?

Do you feel sick when you turn on the news and hear that another disaster, caused by the weather, has claimed thousands of lives? Could it possibly be that we in our pursuit of wealth may have caused some of it?

Do you ask yourself where God is when you read about the suffering in places like Darfur? Do you wonder about the famines and droughts that are plaguing our planet?

Could it be possible that the Bible is true and all of these things are leading up to what will be the biggest and bloodiest battle ever fought on this earth?

Are you fighting for your right to worship as your heart dictates? Or are you cowered by those who scream for political correctness and a Godless society? Do you allow them to change who you are, so you will fit in and keep the peace? This is not keeping the peace; it is trampling on it. Soon we will have no right to worship. Even now in the name of tolerance, churches are springing up everywhere that are ordaining those who live Godless lives as pastors. They do not preach, teach or instill the words of the Bible. They have created a new God. One that is tolerant of all things. We like sheep have gone astray and are lost now. And our country is dying for lack of prayer and revival.

I believe in tolerance. However, I do not tell others that they are right when they are wrong, not do I allow them to change my beliefs or me. I do not try to force the Good News on anyone. By tolerance, I mean that I am not unkind to those who see things in a different way from me. That is their right. I tolerate their right to exist and do not try to harm them. However, neither do I join in with them. I am neither their judge nor jury that is God’s job, not mine.

If we continue to ignore our loss of rights and the damage we are doing to this world and the effects it has on all, we will have been willing participants in bringing about a great super power who will rule the world with a hard hand. Because the results of our doing nothing now, will be such as to make the world reel and men’s hearts to fail from fear. Sound familiar?

When citizens who do nothing now but complain about illegal immigration, crime rates and the government stealing of our rights as humans, we participate in the hastening of martial law being declared. Because, when we finally wake up and see that the government is not going to do anything but talk, some will take matters into their own hands and there will be such civil unrest that we will welcome the interference of the government.

Yes, imagine that, things getting so bad we welcome the government to take control, just to gain a little peace. Selling our birthright for a bowl of pottage. How long will we be satisfied with that way of life? Not very long! We are too use to our freedom of choices, which of course will be the first thing we are stripped of and will no longer have. We will rebel and demand to have back what we so willingly handed over. But our wings will be clipped and we will soar through the heavens freely no more.

For it will not be given back to us. No my friend, it will not be returned to us. Powers behind the scenes, (those we didn’t bother to learn about because we were too busy living our life) have been working feverishly for years to bring about everything that will have caused us to relinquish our rights in the first place. We will become nothing more than a number. Just another worker bee to keep those in power fed with honey as they play with what is left of the world as though it were a set of tinker toys.

Thinking this will never happen? Think again! It is happening day by day right in front of our eyes. But we are too busy to see it. Who would have ever thought that one man could do what Hitler did? This is not a new thought at all. It is well covered in the Bible. And all you need do is make yourself familiar with its pages and you will see for yourself that things are happening just as the word of God says they will. Time is short. It is the eleventh hour already.

So, what can you do? Well for starters, you can wear some real holes in your jeans by getting on your knees to pray. Read the Bible and learn what it says. You can stand your ground on your beliefs, no matter the personal cost. You can start living a green life. You can turn off the television and start reading newspapers and books on current events. Educate yourself and vote. Protest at your child’s school and if that fails to bring about better curriculum, withdraw them and home school them. Remember this; even one drop of water will cause a ripple that will spread outward.

Many will read this post of mine and laugh at me as a holey roller or fanatic. I do not care at all. They laugh at every thought that does not agree with them. I write this for those who have for one reason or another never stopped to think about what is going on around them. Through the years, I have stumbled upon different ideas but the Bible seems solid to me and is being proved daily. The strange thing is that though some spend their lives trying to disprove it, they cannot. The most they can do is come up with another theory, most of which fall far short of being believed. And I have read of several scientists who set out to prove the Bible false only to end up believing in its words. So, to you who have had your interest piqued, research and find out. To you who choose to laugh at me, well they say laughter id a good medicine so here is to your health:)

Remember these famous quotes.

“If you will not fight for right when you can easily win without bloodshed; if you will not fight when your victory is sure and not too costly; you may come to the moment when you will have to fight with all the odds against you and only a precarious chance of survival. There may even be a worse case. You may have to fight when there is no hope of victory, because it is better to perish than to live as slaves.”

~Winston Churchill~

“No arsenal, no weapon in the arsenals of the world, is so formidable as the will and moral courage of free men and women.”

~Ronald Reagan~

And who can doubt that it will lead to the worst disorders when minds created free by God are compelled to submit slavishly to an outside will? When we are told to deny our senses and subject them to the whim of others? When people devoid of whatsoever competence are made judges over experts and are granted authority to treat them as they please? These are the novelties which are apt to bring about the ruin of commonwealths and the subversion of the state

Galileo.
On the margin of his own copy of Dialogue on the Great World Systems

When the wolf bites hard, the sheepdog remains steadfast.

   by Pamela Kay

The following is an email my son sent to his wife. Names have been changed to protect privacy. It shows, as have many others like it, that the soldiers in Iraq are not ready to desert their post and come home. They do not want to cut and run. They want to complete the mission they were sent to do. They are brave beyond belief. I am sure their first choice would be for the world to be at peace and themselves to be at home in the embrace of their families. But since they can not have their first choice, they do what they can, above and beyond the call of duty, everyday. They put their lives at risk to keep us free. They go into harms way, so it will not come to us.

I am proud of these men and women for stepping up and doing what needs to be done, regardless of the personal toll it takes on themselves and their family. They do this for the good of all. They are to be commended for not only their bravery, but for their selflessness and their dedication to the United States of America and our ideals of what freedom really is. They are sheepdogs in the wolves’ den, making a difference in this world of chaos and hostility.

Sweetie,

I’m back at the Boondocks 🙂 It was a pretty good trip and Gunner was with me, so we had a few laughs. Things went well until we were entering the IZ this afternoon. Just as we were entering the IZ, our last stop, I got a radio message that we had taken a casualties in the64th and that they were being MEDIVACed to the CSH (which is also in the IZ).

Gunner and I went directly to the IZ and got there just as our Soldiers were being brought in. They are all going to make it, thank God. But the gunner is hurt really bad. An EFP hit the truck and penetrated. The gunner took the biggest part of the blast and pieces of the projectile went all the way through his abdomen. He’s got some extensive damage to his intestines but he’ll recover. I stayed there while he was in surgery …he was in there for4 hours. The kids name is SPC Porter. When they brought him out of surgery he was a mess, but tomorrow they are going to operate again and then they will EVAC him to Walter Reed through Germany. The doctor said he expects a full recovery. They are keeping him asleep until after his second surgery, so I never got to talk to him, but Gunner, myself and a number of his buddies stayed there beside his bed for a while.

The Chaplain for the CSH, who is a good man, came and talked with everyone. He’ll watch out for Porter tonight…and I’m thankful that we have him there. CPT Haden, the commander, was wounded as well. He’s got a broken clavicle, but will be fine. SPC Garcia was also wounded, but returned to duty.

We were blessed…it really is a miracle that no one died in this attack. By all rights, it should have been a catastrophic hit…but somehow it wasn’t. CPT Haden is a very devout Christian, and he certainly believes he had a prayer answered today.

While at the CSH, I had another of those moments that lets me know we are doing the RIGHT thing by being here. In the bed beside Porter was a 5-month old baby. I asked the doctor what happened to him and they told us his mother and father were killed by insurgents. The insurgents also shot the baby, but he survived….somehow. He too will be okay from what we were told. It was hard to think that someone could do something like that. Just because this baby and his family were Sunni, they were shot. How do these people do these things. You know me and kids…but then that’s everyone and kids I guess.

I was really shook up, and that experience coupled with my guys being wounded really hit me hard. It was tough. As I said, when I arrived they had just brought the wounded in. SGT Malory is the squad leader for that squad. Malory is an inch taller than me, and goes about 250 I guess. He’s a BIG man, and HARD. My initial report was that the wounded were serious but stable, but I never trust that anymore because the last two times we had a Soldier killed, I was told via radio that they were “serious but stable”. So I walked in half expecting the worst.

When Malory saw me he just broke down crying…he was inconsolable. I took him outside right away and we sat down on the curb. I was certain that one (or more) of my guys were gone. I just put my arm around this big ole mountain of a man and we sat there while he cried. Finally, he stopped and started telling me how everyone was (as best he knew). Gunner was inside checking on the status of everyone. Judi…I was so relieved when he told me that they were all alive. He said “I’m not crying because they got wounded…I’m crying because they are all so brave.” He went on and on about how ALL of his squad did EXACTLY what they were trained to do.

The vehicle was still smoldering, but the other squad members ran to it and started extracting the wounded…that is extremely dangerous because the ammo inside can cook-off easily killing or wounding anyone near it. But they didn’t hesitate. They got them out, secured the area, called for MEDIVAC and stabilized the wounded. He was, as am I, so impressed with their “calm under pressure” abilities.

When he was finished telling me what occurred I said “Malory, they did all that because YOU trained them…you showed them how to do all this back at Hood.” We talked a little more, and then he was back to himself….hard, big and in-charge. The rest of the squad was there by that time, and so we went to talk to them and tell them that everyone was okay.

I spent about an 30 minutes talking to the Soldiers and telling them I was proud of them. Of course, none of them thought they did anything special. “Just another day at the office.” They were worried, but even in this state, they all made sure that Malory knew that all sensitive items and weapons were accounted for… That the remaining trucks were combat ready…standing there in that hospital parking lot, the team leaders had the presence of mind to brief their squad leader that all was well with the remainder of the squad, and that they were ready to get back in the fight.

I know this gets old, Babe. I know that it’s a broken record…but again I found myself asking “where do we find these kids?” Dirty, blood-covered in some cases, and shook to the bone by a BIG hit…with brothers in the CSH wounded badly…these kids were preparing themselves and their equipment for whatever might come next. That’s amazing to me. I am moved often by their bravery…real courage.

Once again I’m left thinking “I’m blessed to serve beside them…to get the opportunity to lead people like this.” It was a rough day…it was certainly not filled with good memories. But I am in awe of our troopers, Judi. They amaze me.

I’ll be here for a little while and if you have time to talk I’ll give you a call. Let me know. I love you.

Love, Me

Hold on to the peace that surpasses all understanding

 Peace , Spiritual traits

Some days it rains. We cannot get around that. However, what we can do is seek shelter, raise an umbrella and put on our rain gear to protect ourselves from falling torrents, splashing puddles and lightening strikes. It is the same with the storms of life.

We can just muck along in the gossip, arguments and backbiting or we can choose to rise above it and seek a higher plain on which to stand.

This is an easy thing to say. But, when it comes down to actually turning the other cheek we sometimes balk at it, as too hard. When it comes to actually walking away from angry accusations thrown at you, it is too hard to do. When juicy gossip is floating around that will put you in the know, it is too hard to not listen. When someone has hurt you and you then catch them with their hand in the cookie jar, it is too hard to keep it to yourself.

Turning the other cheek, walking away, not listening, and keeping things to ourselves are not human traits. They are spiritual traits. Learned behavior. These are the keys to having the peace that is promised by Jesus. He will give us this peace, but we must obey to have it.

I fall down a lot in this area of my Christian life. I am too often quick with an angry retort, or push back when I am pushed. I don’t want to do these things; I just do them before I think. The human side of me wants instant satisfaction and revenge. The spiritual side of me is shoved aside as I basically say,” Wait a minute Jesus, I’ll handle this one.” He does not argue with me, He lets me proceed to make another mistake, because I choose to do this rather than remember the lessons I have been taught in the past. Obeying Him is always a choice; it is never forced on me.

I am always sorry afterward. I often feel shame for not obeying and living the example He gave His all to teach us. Yes, He forgives me, but when will I learn? How many times do I have to trip into this pitfall before I see I need to take another path? How much damage do I do to my creditability as a Christian?

If you preach it, you had best be living it. There are those always waiting and watching for you to fall so they can say, “I thought you said so and so.” And if they can see when my actions do not match, what I say, then they can see when they do match and this is my witness for Jesus.

It takes a long time to undo the harm and damage I do to my witnessing ability when I keep making the same mistakes over and over again. Satan knows what buttons to push. He knows I hate injustice and he uses this against me. Hating injustice is a good thing, but not when you try to change things on your own. The fight is Jesus’ and He has already won it.

He does not want me to fly angrily into the fray, screaming and pushing, demanding to be heard. He does not want me to use the methods of those that I seek to show a better way. How can I tell someone that His way is better if I do not live it myself? Who would listen? Who would believe me?

No, what He wants is for me to follow His example and take the venues He has opened for me. I do not get to choose the terms of engagement, the battle plan if you will.  He will always provide a way to do His work if that is what He wishes you to do. He has more ways and means at His disposal than I can ever hope to imagine. You have to do it His way or not at all.

I do not get to pick and choose who I would like to see saved by Christ. He chooses, and He does not tell me who they are sometimes. To be sure that I do not do more damage than good, I must be the same all of the time, treating everyone the same. He was not a respecter of persons, neither should I be.

Friend or foe, He loves us all and sees the good in each of us. It is His choice as to who should be punished and how and when. Not mine. My part is to show His love to everyone I come in contact with. Yes, this is another thing that is so hard to do. But I try to remember that we sometimes entertain angels unbeknownst to us. And that I too was once wandering around lost and He chose to save me. Do I wish to deny others the same blessing that was freely given to me? Heavens no!

I use to laugh at the way some of the Jewish men would wear a Tefillin on their foreheads and hands. These are small boxes with scriptures in them. The first is from Deuteronomy 6: 4-9 and says, “And thou shalt bind them for a sign upon thine hand and they shall be as frontlets between thine eyes….”  I no longer laugh at this practice. It makes sense to me. It is to help them to remember. I need one that says, “There but by the grace of God, go I.”

I could remember better, if I spent more time in my Bible and less time wondering about what others are doing and saying. Those things are none of my business. His word is my business. It should be my primary business.

I suppose that what brought about me writing this blog today is the dismal way I failed yesterday at work. I became so angry that my blood pressure shot up enough to turn my face red. My anger did nothing to resolve the problem. However, I did not want to wait until Monday, when Human Resources are open. I wanted things done then, in my time, not in Christ’s chosen time. Therefore, I did a lot of damage to my reputation as one who is a Christian.

I was not the injured party. It was a shy sweet little Hispanic woman who barely speaks English. But you understand anger in any language when someone is screaming in your face. She was frightened and did not even know what was going on. A foul-mouthed bully was giving us all a hard time, but the Hispanic woman took the brunt of it. She was so thankful for my coming to her aid that she spent the rest of the day running over to my job to help me.

Now this is heart warming to me, but…! She may not be the one that Jesus had in mind for me to witness to. Maybe it was the foul-mouthed woman. At any rate, my behavior was deplorable and I am ashamed of how I handled the incident. I do not know if the damage can be undone. I am in pain because I may be that woman’s last chance to get to know Jesus. It is true that her actions appeared driven by Satan, but it is also apparent that mine were too.

I have to answer for my actions but if she is lost, God may call me to account for her soul too. He knows now that I am so sorry for what I did. He has forgiven me, of this I am sure. However, even with forgiveness there are always consequences and this weighs heavy on my heart now.

Since I love Jesus, I should not have such a hard time holding on to the peace He gives to us. But by my own willfulness, I have let go of this prized gift from my Lord and Savior. My prayer is that He will in His great mercy allow me to redeem myself at work and again be a good witness for Him.

Enough! How To Take America Back Through Our Children

by Pamela Kay

What has happened to America? Where are the people who once valued freedom, decency and respectfulness? Why have our values been turned upside down and our vision so distorted, that we no longer see a line between right and wrong, sensible and stupid, funny and vulgar? Why have the lines been smudged or erased!

Language in this country is horrendous. Four letter words are used as punctuation. No one seems able to express them self with out using expletives that make my skin crawl. Take “brown nosing” for an example. Most probable do not know what it really refers to, they only know it means to curry favor. However, if you look at what it actually means and get a mental picture of it, it is repulsive.

Even those who have great, working vocabularies use this language. I believe it is an effort to fit in. This desire seems to drive our country. Being accepted is important to me too, but on my terms, not those of others. I say what is acceptable to me, not the one with the most personal power. These people are usually bullies and I will not be bullied into relinquishing my ideals to gain favor with them, in hopes that they will do me no harm.

That is how they gained their personal power in the first place. Well, most of them anyway. Those with the vile vicious wagging tongues that spread their venom about those who do not bow down to them. I see it in action everyday at work. Really nice people being forced out because they will not conform to the vulgarity that reigns. I say enough is enough!

Another thing that I do not understand is why our troops are bashed in the media when it is the policies of the country that may be at fault. Calling a national hero who put his very life on the line for all of us is an unthinkable act. And by a well-educated and wealthy woman who wields a lot of power. But again the line is blurred and Hillary Clinton stepped over it. What could she hope to gain from bashing General Petraeus? More power! She has not learned what enough is.

Modesty has all but disappeared in America, and nudity reigns supreme. The more you can show, the better. Hemlines have crept up as necklines have plunged. There is no longer anything left to a man’s imagination, so he searches in the day cares for something to tantalize him. He is searching for purity, which he is hard-pressed find in today’s modern woman. There are those who dress in a modest way, but they are few and far between.

If anatomy that was once required to be covered is not actually showing, it is covered so tightly it might as well be showing. Or it is so decorated that attention is drawn to it. Do women think this is the only way to catch a man’s eye? What about smiles, personality, values, faithfulness and intelligence?

Upside down is our dress code of today. Clothing that is “in style” must be either too small or too big. I am so tired of looking at ugly butts, boobs and bellies that I could scream!! I don’t even want to see the pretty ones. With people like Britney Spears and Paris Hilton setting our standard for the youth, I see no hope of it getting better. But I have had enough!

Children once were taught to show respect to their elders, their country, their flag and their president. But no more! Respect is passé, out the door, out of style, old fashioned and very much dead in America. Why? How did we move from there to here? How did our values change so quickly? The answer is television. And I have had enough of that too!

Television started out to be a good thing as did the splitting of the atom, which held hope of making deserts bloom, and feeding the masses. But, it went wrong when programmers realized there was more money to be made in shock than in educational, in sleazy than in nice, in shocking accusations than in truth and in x-rated than in family oriented.

So I ask you, where are the decent, law abiding, God-fearing people who will take America back? Will we sit on our hands or wring them until it is too late to redeem us? Do you think you can’t make a difference by yourself? You can make a difference and you can motivate others to join with you in fighting back against the ruination of our great country. Have you had enough? I have and I am fighting back!

What can you do? Vote! Encourage others to vote. Know the candidates and what they stand for, what they have voted for in the past. How they live their lives. It takes time to do these things, but isn’t the goal worth it? You can write letters of protest to senators and congressional representatives, to sponsors of bad television programs, to your council members, your mayor. Tell them what you think and what you want.

Get to know your own children better; they are the future of this country. And just as it did not take only one day for us to fall so far, it will take more than a day to right ourselves.. Know who your children’s friends are and what their family ideals are. Get to know the parents and see it they have the same moral values as you. Talk to your children; give them examples of how wrong behavior hurts them and others. Show them by the example of your living how to live in a decent way.

Find a way to take them to see other children in hospitals because of bad choices. Same thing with children that are incarcerated. Let them see what can happen to them. Encourage them to read about good role models. In addition, be one yourself.

Know their teachers and what their curriculum is at school. Don’t just assume they are being taught what they need to know. Teachers have agendas just as everyone else does. Are they putting their personal spin on things and leading your child off the right path? Find out by becoming involved.

If you find the schools approved curriculum not to your liking, try to change it. Go before the school board; rally other parents with your views. If this fails, consider taking your child out of public schools and placing them in a private one. Or try home schooling. Think you can’t afford it? Think again.

That second job in the household, which gives you a better standard of living, could be costing you dearly in the end. The best standard of living you can give to your children is a good right thinking education. They are your most important and valuable asset. They should be at the top of all agendas and priorities. What good are all the possessions in the world if your child is in prison, on drugs or lying mangled in a hospital bed?

When it comes to television as entertainment, limit the amount of time spent in front of the boob tube. It has been called that for a reason! Turn off the bad shows on TV and allow your children to watch only acceptable programming. Watch television with them.

Get outside with your children, no matter what their age is. Play basketball with them or run, swim, exercise, jump rope, or just take a walk with them. Teach them about the world and about history. Get involved with them in all ways. Yes, they may moan at first about spending time with you, but the average child of today really wants the approval and acceptance of their parents more that you might think.

If we, as concerned citizens of America, do not move now to change things for the better, they will only continue to change for the worse. Raise your voice and help restore the values and principles this great country was founded on. The danger of our country falling to a terrorist attack is great. But so is the danger of falling from within as ancient Rome did because of moral decay. I’ve had more than enough of politicians and organizations like the AFLCIO telling me how to live and cramming political correctness down my throat.

I already know what is correct and acceptable behavior at all times. I was taught in a time before Washington started pandering to special interest groups, before criminals had more rights than law-abiding citizens, when guarding our borders and obeying our laws meant something and when we as parents had a say in the raising of our children and what they were to be taught. Do you know what is right and just? Then let your voice ring out loud and shout from the rooftops that you have had enough!

Jillian Danielle Pasley and Roland Andrew Jeffords became one today

Jillian Danielle Pasley and Roland Andrew Jefford became one today.

I have just returned from the wedding. It was a lovely affair. The women looked like a garden of flowers, and the men were all so handsomely dressed. The bride was stunning: a vision of white, except for the warm brown of her smiling, dancing eyes. The flowers were fresh and dewy and the food was delicious. The cake brought chuckles, as the groom atop it was drug off by the bride. Overall, it was a wonderful wedding.

However, there was one other thing the eyes of this grandmother saw that made the day so very, very special. It was the way that Andrew looked at Jillian. The pride, the joy, and the love were written all over his face. It showed in how he took her hand and held it tenderly. His thumb gently rubbing her hand in a silent but loudly spoken, “I love you, I cherish you, you make me complete, I am overjoyed that you love me too.”

They were lost to the guest and the rest of the world as they stood and faced each other on this, their special day of becoming one. This is as it should be. Nothing save God in heaven should have been more important to them, and it was not. The baby chattering in the back row was unnoticed, the warm glow of the flickering candles was unseen, the coolness of the sanctuary was unfelt, the murmurings of the guests were unheard, and the fragrance of the flowers was not smelled. Only the silent message sent by their eyes and their joined hands was acknowledged: I love you forever.

How wonderful is the peace of mind this little insight has brought to me. They are so young, and have so many roads ahead of them. Roads that sometimes take a twisted route of trouble or a detour of pain. Somehow, I believe these two, who are now one, will make it just fine. They will pull together through the rough times and laugh together in the good times. And this is what makes a good marriage in the end, doing it all together and never losing sight of the one you love most.

So, I am happy tonight. I have much to be thankful for, even though one son is far away in Iraq. I am blessed to have a healthy, loving family, however scattered out we may be. No matter that more often than not we disagree on some things. We always agree to love one another, to forgive one another and never turn our back on one another.

I am blessed that I have a job I am able to do (even though I often complain about it). Blessed to have my Mother, who is 81, with me and that she is more able than me at times to get the job done that needs doing. Blessed to live in America, even with all of its dissention and bickering. Blessed to be able to sit back and see things that others sometime miss, like the way that Andrew looked at my precious Jillian today.

Today was a good day, a very good day indeed.

Read the poem I wrote for them at http://www.helium.com/tm/604150/sounds-lives-meshingdawn-whispering

 

 

911– I Remember, I Will Not Forget

September 11, 2001 dawned as any other day. The sun came up as it always did, right on time. I left my job as always at 7am, and headed for home. I unwound a little by eating breakfast as I watched the news. No warning was given, because no one knew. I lay down to peaceful sleep, tired from the labor of the night before.

As I lay down to sleep, the events that culminated in the horror of the WTC had already begun. Terrorist were already aboard their flights. NORAD was in the middle of running a program called Vigilant or Global Guardian, which simulated a hijacking. President Bush was in route to a school to speak to elementary students. Donald Rumsfeld was hosting a breakfast. And millions of Americans were going about their lives, unaware of the plot that was happening overhead in the skies of their homeland.

As I fall deeper into my sleep, one plane is already hijacked by the terrorist and is reported by a flight attendant. At first, she is not believed, but then the airline officials decide to keep it to themselves instead of reporting it to the government. How terrified the people must have been as I slept on.

At 8:46 am, as I traipse through pleasant dreams, flight 11 slams into the north tower. It is a chilling thing to think about but at the exact same time, the plane hit the tower, fighter jets were ordered to scramble and find flight 11. But, it was already too late. And I turned over in my sleep and found a comfortable position, without a clue that my life had been changed forever.

I am not the only one who does not know what has happened. Our president is told only that a small plane has struck the north tower. It is believed to be nothing more than an accident. At this time, he is blissfully unaware that his country is under attack by terrorist. He sits in front of small children and listens as they read their lesson to him.

At 9:00 am, my highly agitated daughter wakes me. “Momma,” she says, “I know you need your sleep, but I thought you would want to see what has happened in New York. A plane has flown into the world Trade Center. It’s awful,”

I am visiting at her house for a week, so we can spend some time together. I am sleeping on her sofa. I turn over and through bleary eyes; I look at the TV across the room. The reporters are talking about the tower that is now in flames. Then I see a plane fly into the other tower. I am confused at first, I think it is a replay, but the reporters are saying something about another plane and the south tower. They too are highly agitated.

Then it hits me like icy water, it was not an accident, it was on purpose and both towers have been hit. I sit up and look at the instant replay, but I cannot believe what my eyes are seeing. I grow cold and my hands start to tremble. A thousand one word questions race through my mind. Why? How? Why? Who? Why? Why? Why?

I realize I am holding my breath, my chest hurts and my hands are covering my face. I look at the TV through trembling fingers. I brush a lock of hair that is not out of place, back into place. I adjust my position and pull the quilt around me but it offers no comfort. My great-great-grandmother made it, it should be comforting to me now, but it is not. There is nothing that can comfort me now, not even my God, for I cannot even pray. How can I pray when I cannot think? How can I form lucid thoughts when my mind is telling that what my eyes have been seeing cannot be true? I can’t accept it; I do not want to accept it. But this horror as real.

My mind is filled with brief glimpses, manufactured by an out of order brain, of what it must have been like for those in the towers. The shock, the fear, the disbelief, the urge to run when there was no time or place to run. My body still trembles but now I am visibly shaking all over. My daughter is concerned for me. She is young and does not understand that America must be under attack. It is only with great effort that I myself come to this conclusion. Then the human need to survive takes over and I ask for a hot cup of coffee.

My daughter turns off the air conditioner, in hopes of warming me up. Slowly the color returns to my face, but my eyes still do not cry. I need to go to the bathroom, but do not want to leave the TV. I am waiting for what comes next. The news is talking about President Bush being told. I do not know if it was then I saw it on TV or later in the day.

An agent comes in and whispers the news into his ear that another plane has crashed into the south tower. His face blanches slightly. He now knows what I know, that it was not an accident, but that we are under attack.

Bush makes a speech from the school and tells America that we are under attack. I already knew this. But shortly after this, the next thing I had been waiting for occurred. Flight 77 flew into the Pentagon. I knew it was coming, but it was still a shock. It is then reported that another plane is hijacked and is on its way to Washington D.C. My heart nearly stops beating when I hear this. The coldness starts to return.

It grips me hard as I see, on TV, one of the towers start to collapse. It falls as if it is made of tinker toys. Dust and smoke billowing out around it. Again, I cannot breathe and cannot believe what my eyes are seeing. “Oh, God!” I cry out, and my daughter comes running in from the kitchen to see what is wrong. She watches the instant replay of the tower go down. I do not dwell on this for long because soon after this we learn that another plane has crashed in Pennsylvania.

I watch for an hour or two more. All of this has happened in just about one and half hours. It has been exhausting for me to watch. My body has run a gauntlet of all emotions known to mankind. I have still not cried but the tears will come. I go to the computer and sit there trying to gather some thoughts to add to my diary. Over the top of it, I keep a close eye on the TV. This is my diary entry for September 11, 2001:

Sept. 11, 2001 1:10 PM

Oh my God! Oh my God! I am in a state of shock. What could not happen, what should not happen—has happened. Today! I saw it happen on the TV. My eyes saw it but my mind keeps trying to spit it out. It can’t be. It is a nightmare from which I can’t awake. My hands are trembling, my heart is racing, my skin is cold. The whole world must be watching as we, the mighty are slain. No, no not slain, only wounded. But wounded so badly. Why? Why? Why? Have we not been there for the world in their hour of need? Who is there that we have not helped? How can anyone hate us so? I can’t get my head to work, to think. I have never known this feeling before, surprise, shock, horror, revulsion, pain, disbelief, helplessness, even fear. All at once and together, they hit me. Like a child in the midst of laughter suddenly slapped by a parent, they love, for no reason. Each thought comes back to “Why?”

My head keeps playing it over and over. The plane flying into the tower, the plane flying into the tower, the plane flying into the tower. It will not stop, I don’t need to look at the TV to see, it is etched in my soul forever. Burned into my vision. No way to look around it.

I can’t even pray. I can’t hold to a thought long enough. The picture keeps intruding. How can there be such hate? What kind of heart can harbor such? Did anyone look up from their desk and see it coming? Oh what utter confusion, what sheer disbelief. Do their mothers even know yet? That their child is gone in a blazing inferno?

I must be in shock. I know this because my eyes are dry but my heart is weeping. The very soul, which is me, is screaming and weeping in pain. I can’t write anymore now, the TV keeps calling to me. Is there more to come?

Surely no more. I am afraid. Some part of me has died, or is lost. I will never be the same again. We will never be the same again. Life as we knew it ended today.

Sept. 11, 2001 9 PM

I have not slept today. The picture keeps playing over and over. All of those people…gone. So many lives lost, so much of innocence lost…gone forever. I called in to see if we were working tonight. We are! But I do not understand why everyone is not at a standstill, with this great grief I feel inside of me. Maybe they handle it in another way, by keeping busy maybe. I will have to try. But I know I will only be a shell of myself, going through the motions. It is good that there will be someone telling me what to do, as I am unable to move myself. How much of this day will I actually remember once my mind starts to really function again? When I am in control. LOL that is quaint, when was I ever in control? Guess I should say when I again can pretend I am in control. I feel so very, very small now. Like a tiny little flower lying on the floor of some massive primordial jungle. Of no consequence at all.

Hope does still live in me. I just had a wonderful thought. God can see me. I have left Him out of this today. Was I afraid to ask why He allowed it to happen? Yes, I think so. I will leave that for another day, and just cling to Him and hope, that He alone can offer. I see so many on TV that are running to help, in any way they can. Trying to console those who will never kiss the sweet cheeks of their child again, or embrace their chosen partners that they vowed to love until death do us part. Death has parted them now in a horrible way. All of those lives, gone in just the blink of an eye. They will not be forgotten. The remembering of them will cause a great anger to grow in our hearts, that someone for their own gain could willfully inflict so much pain.

Sept 12, 2001 8:10 AM

I am home from work now. I must be on automatic, because I still can not think about what I am doing. Too much turmoil in my heart and mind. My head hurts and heart hurts and I just don’t understand anything anymore. How can one instant in time change so much, so fast?

If I could just get by that mental image of the plane as it flew in the WTC, then maybe I could go on and get back to as close to normal as I will ever be again. But it is there even when I close my eyes. It will not go away. It hurts so very bad, but there is no escaping it. I ask Jesus to remove it, but He must think it needful for me because it is still there. I trust Him, but it just hurts so badly. How many pieces can a heart break into? How long does it take for it to be totally broken to the point where it no longer feels the cracking and tearing apart? I do not know, but guess I will find out now. I am still at Jarie’s house. I am treated as royalty here. Ask to do nothing but to love. I wish though that the construction was complete and I was in my own cozy little home, where everything is so familiar. Then I could sit at my desk with the door open and watch the dawn come stealing over the hill outside and through the ivy laden oak trees that have been there forever.

My chest hurts, just a tight bundle of pain that has such a great weight. There must be a lesson somewhere in this for me. Or Jesus would not let it continue. But what?!? It is there, somewhere in the mishmash of my brain, but I couldn’t find my own nose right now, let alone anything in that tangled jungle of my mind. There is no order, no sense to me at all. It will come back, if I just give it time. Or am I losing my mind now? If so, I almost welcome it, because what is worse that being locked in here with all of this pain caused by the image of the plane flying into the tower, over and over again? Oh, sweet Jesus help me please.