Love Is

"If I then, your Lord and Master, have washed your feet; ye also ought to wash one another's feet. (John 13:14, KJV)" "There are supposedly several kinds of love. I’m not talking about the youthful infatuation love or the sexual attraction, hormonal love. I’m talking about a more mature, lasting love. The love I’m talking about doesn’t end when the next hot girl walks by or when the new sexy phone comes out.""It all started when the little lap-dog died and my wife freaked out. While I found it sad, she was really mourning. She really loved the animal, and millions of people have the same sentiment. According to her the reason is that the dog loved her unconditionally. Lots of people say the same thing. That doesn’t make sense. What the world sees as a dog's unconditional love I see as laying around and demanding stuff, like food and walks." "In the months since the pet demise, I’ve concluded that she grew to love the dog because she took care of it. A dog or cat or baby is completely dependent on you. Nobody brings a cat home and immediately loves it. I think the constant care it requires causes the caregiver to love it. To me, nothing else makes sense." "My experience at a nursing home reinforces my theory. The nurse aids, the nurses, the cooks, and housekeepers, loved the residents. They typically don't have “professional detachment”. When a resident was sick or passed away the caregivers were deeply hurt and mourned. Caregivers didn’t love them before they checked in, but grew to love them. By caring for someone, you grow to love them." "It’s like in “Fiddler On the Roof”. Tevye, the main character, had an arranged marriage to his wife,Golde. The first time they met was on their wedding day, so there was no love at the beginning. In the play Tevye asks Golde if she loves him. Eventually, she supposes that after taking care of him for 25 years she loves him. I think that growth into love is almost always true." "In the above passage from the Bible, Jesus cares for his disciples. He commands his followers to do the same for each other. I think this is so they’ll each grow to love the other disciples. He repeatedly tells us to love one another. He also repeatedly tells Peter to feed and tend his sheep. If gather that this is so Peter and remaining apostles will love others." "If I’m right, then love doesn’t have to be reciprocal. My wife loves her dog even if it doesn’t, or can’t love her. Golde can love Tevye, even if he doesn’t reciprocate.If I'm correct, then Jesus can, and does love us in spite of us not loving. By his caring for us even though it caused him intense pain, it proves his eternal love. If we serve others we’ll grow to love them. That’s a powerful love." "Fini."

Pride Goeth Before a Fall By Charlie Melton

I was strutting, as I usually do, until I found myself face-down on the sidewalk. It was a dose of reality that bruised my knee, scraped my ego, and sent my phone sliding down Broadway.

I entered an online giveaway. I won 4 tickets, so I took a couple of the grandkids and stepson Jerry to the Monster Jam in St Louis. Thankfully, Jerry couldn’t imagine riding with me in the city and he drove. We parked at the Roof of the World and hoofed it to the Dome.

We walked down from 88th floor of the Mount Everest Parking Garage and ran into a million freezing pedestrians. I tried to merge but my feet got confused and I face-planted on the nasty sidewalk. Embarrassed, I tried to pop up but my knees wouldn’t let me. After decades of abuse and obesity, they went on strike. Jerry had to help me up, just like young people help old people every day. This was the first time I was the “old people”. I wanted to slink away and lick my wounds, but pride got in the way and I went on to the Dome of Death.

Do you remember watching TV wildlife shows where a wolf stalks and kills the injured Caribou that can’t keep up with the herd? I looked back and the real-life, wolfish, un-welcome-wagon man was following us. After he stayed on my heels through a couple of turns I turned and stared him down. He spotted a person with a fancier watch and went after new prey. We moved on with the herd and into the Dome. I briefly wondered if his new prey got away.

The free tickets ended up being for seats on the moon. Even though the steep stairs took my breath and what was left of my dignity, I made it thousands of steps to my miniature chair, which was next to Baby Huey. I squeezed into the little plastic vise #4 of row MM, which made me way too cozy with my neighbor.

To the tune of overbuilt engines, I sat as well as can be expected. My sitting muscles went numb. My knee throbbed. My ego throbbed. My neighbor grinned at me. I got up and moved to an empty seat 2 rows away.

As I sat in my misery I noticed a pretty young mother running up the stairs while carrying a largish child. Five minutes later she went back down the stairs, which were steep enough to qualify as a ladder. Minutes later she ran back up. She repeated the regimen for hours. She must have seen my fear and pain moving up the steps. Maybe she saw me fall earlier and was taunting me. As she skipped up the endless stairs, I started to despise her and her flexible knees.

Far below, on the field, a monster truck flipped and threw flames and engine parts across the dome. Unlike me, it could be repaired easily. I sulked. We completed the event and made it down and out without consequence. I took more than the recommended dosage of Ibuprofen and went home.

I’m not sure what to do with my new self image. I’m the old guy that needs a “Lifecall” because he’s fallen and can’t get up. Maybe this goes with being near my expiration date. It’s really not fair because I never signed an agreement to be old and infirm.

Now that I’m home in the loving embrace of my recliner, I have time to wrap my mind around my circumstances. I should accept my lot in life and stay off the stairs. I should understand that I can’t do the things that the young wolfs do and embrace being a crippled caribou that can’t keep up with herd. I can ignore the young Mom running the stairs.

But, I’m not going to do that. I fell, but it won’t happen again. I’m off to the gym. The next time I won’t be weak. I’ll keep my footing and run the stairs. The wolf can look for other prey.

Or, maybe not.

Fini.

Vote True

You all know me. I’m the little round guy with an appetite for pie and sarcasm. I try to be as funny as I can as often as I can. Humor and sarcasm are the tools I use to cope with stressful situations. In spite of being a jester I have an intense love for our way of life and our rural, Christian culture. Part of that reverence for our society is why I vote every time I get a chance.

We have to start revering our values and our culture. With voter turnout in our elections normally 50% or less, citizens just don’t care that much about our way of life. When we do care a little, we usually don’t do our due diligence on issues and how the candidates stand on them. We have to change that.

Society is changing at breakneck speed. Everything we have known or thought or felt has become challenged. The institution of the family is on the brink of destruction. The churches are increasingly marginalized. Now is the time to take a stand. Now is the time to define who we are and what we believe. Now is our time to be true to ourselves.

When I was not true to myself society left me. I’ve allowed the near destruction of everything I took for granted. I served in this country’s military for 20 years and I served it blindly. In the 70s when the media successfully branded all military members fascists and baby-killers, I hid my status and pretended to be a civilian. When the pro-choice movement said I didn’t know that a baby was alive, I went along to get along. When the Clinton Cartel ran the White House, I allowed them to insult and slight me, and all of our brothers and sisters in uniform. When Obama called us names, I gritted my teeth and closed my eyes. I kept quiet, but things just got worse. Now every aspect of life is sexualized in the most perverted ways possible and every virtue is condemned as hateful. If I raise any concerns I’m branded as racist, or a Nazi, or a half wit.

When it’s all boiled down, the attacks on our society are like a cancer that infiltrates every cell of our world. The lies we’ve been fed are malignancies in our lives. Being true to ourselves is like chemo against the radical cancer that is killing us. The only cure is to be true to ourselves. We have to believe our way of life is true and we have to act on that belief. We have to fight for ourselves and our next best battle is March 17th at the primary. We have to be true to our values. Our families deserve that we to be true to them.

There is a cure. We don’t vote red. We don’t vote blue. We vote true.

Fini.