(This was originally written in support of the 50 Million Round March on May 29, 2000, for the Sierra Times)
As women we have watched as our children are shot in the school rooms and have tried alternative schooling for our children so that they wouldn't have to deal with that. But, not only do we get in trouble for trying to do our motherly duty and protect them, we have to fight their fathers in order to do so. Why? Because men would rather make a dollar than protect their children.
We have fought the doctors, nurses, teachers and day-care workers in order to keep our kids drug-free from ritalin and other forms of methamphetamines, but their fathers don't have the time to get to really get to know their children and it is much easier to listen to a woman they don't know than to listen to the wife they are constantly arguing with about the subject, even though she knows the child better at times, because she is with him more.
Our men, who spend their hard earned money on expensive toys for themselves rather than quality time with their families, have fallen into the traps of liberated women, and are now demanding that their wives follow suit. They just flat don't want to take care of us anymore. It is too much work.
Never mind that the liberated women out there have done more to mess up our children than anyone. They would rather put their children on drugs so they can get rest away from their children when they come home from work (if they haven't aborted those nuisances) so the children can be walking zombies that never learn right from wrong. They sit those children, who are too "down" to do anything, in front of that box full of sex and violence, and since that is all they see, that is all they learn. Is it no wonder they go to school then and kill other kids?
What is worse, it is those liberated women out there who are the teachers and day-care workers we have to fight everyday from undermining our own authority over our children.
So, us women who still believe in traditional values, and are still trying to raise our children to respect God and Country, are tired of taking matters into our own hands. We are looking for a few REAL men to take up our cause. We heard about those 40K morons who went to Washington, and with minimal support from a few real men in order to teach those killers for gun-control a lesson, many of us liberty-loving, conservative and Godly women showed up, too.
How many liberal husbands supported their women as they attacked our children that day? How many freedom-loving husbands supported and honored their wives as they went to counter that attack? If the conservative woman was not there, it was because, in this day and age, a woman can't afford to be conservative. There are no men around to take care of them anymore. There are no men who will stand up and support their wives in order to be honored back in the long run.
Men, let me give you a little secret. Women like to be protected, not owned. They like to be taken care of, not forced to take care of themselves in order to pay half the bills. The reason there are so many "liberal" women out there today is out of necessity. If a woman has to support herself with someone, it is just as easy to support themselves alone.
When will the men be men?
The men, who are using loneliness to excuse drunken rages and beating their wives because they feel inadequate enough to care for them completely blame us women for all the world's problems. Men like the idea of women helping to be the bread winner of the family today. Don't they realize that if their women get a job and become equal bread winners, that they won't be home when their men are to take care of them? Don't they realize that women can compensate for loneliness a lot easier than a man can?
Men, who think only in terms of sex and dollars have found out that that they can take care of themselves a lot easier than they can support a family, and they can go to a bar and get sex anytime they want. They don't stop to think that the reason they can do this a lot of times is because the women who go to that bar are tired of the men that they have not being men.
Oh, but it isn't all the men's fault.
Women, who have been raised in the government training camps don't beg their men to go to church with them any more and to share those quality outings with their children. After all, we were all descended from apes, so there is no God to answer to. Life was much better when men felt forced to spend a few hours on Sunday listening to Godly sermons and told that God would punish them if they were bad husbands or fathers.
We have mistakenly molded our men into being more "sensitive" and loving, and have not instructed them that it is okay to be leaders and put their foots down when needed for the betterment of the family as a whole.
Now, when we are faced with surrendering our children because men won't stand up and be men, we, as conservative women, are stumbling around trying to find a few good men who will instruct us on how to use a weapon for self-defense. We are afraid. We have no man to protect us or our children anymore.
Those men out there who do try to be real men and protect the traditional values of God and Country are constantly being (a) ridiculed by society as being an extremist, and therefore being forced not to talk about it or educate anyone else, (b) feared by their liberal wives who are concerned about the social life their children are not enjoying due to being "different" or (c) they are accused by their women of being too strict or too demanding.
(A note for you liberal women out there: If a man is willing to work 3 jobs in order to pay the bills and buy your clothes and put food in your mouth and your kid's, so he can have someone there for him to cook, clean and rub his back when he gets home--any way he wants it rubbed--is that asking too much?)
And now, in light of losing the Constitution that allowed our men to be free men, and knowing that our sons (read: our CHILDREN) will have no choice but to be compliant, we are humbled, and we are putting our foot down to protect the rights of our children.
We women have had enough.
We have already been forced to give our children up to entities that will turn them against us in the long run. We have been forced to live alone rather than with a liberal man who thinks anything goes. We have been forced to fend for ourselves, rather than have half our bills paid by a "domestic partner"/roommate, and half of our saving squandered on a good time.
Why should we pay more taxes for that?
For you men who are reading this and saying to themselves, "you just haven't found the right one yet," we say if there are any real men left out there after we have so carelessly dispersed of them, then show us.
We want you to prove it by meeting the 50-Million Round Challenge that Jeff Head and SierraTimes.com are promoting. We want to see pictures of you on father's day, being real fathers and real heads of your family, at the gun range.
Why? Because when our childeren get to be 18 years old, we want their God-given right to self-defense by use of a weapon or any other peaceful means still in-tact. We don't want them to have to pay for a privilege that is, by the words written in the first ten amendments of the Constitution, a right.
And good mothers don't like to see their children hurt when they don't have to be. Responsible mothers teach their children to care for themselves...in every way.
Men, women like to feel loved. If you are, indeed, a man, we want to see you stand up, for once, for liberty and justice in love, honor, and protection like men should do for your family and for yourself. We want the proof. We want the pictures.
We want hope.
Shonda Ponder
Friday, February 23, 2007
If We Could Face Our Fears
(Originally written in 1999, by Shonda Ponder)
We have a crisis in our country today.
The crisis I speak about is not the presidential impeachment hearings. It is not the recent rise in hate crimes. It is not the dangers our children face each day as moms and dads across America drop them off at public schools. It isn't the religious persecutions around the world that seem to be untouchable by the separation of church and state that has been planted in our way of life for the past 30 years. It isn't the crowding of prisons due to victimless crimes; nor is it the rising numbers of deadbeat parents. It isn't the break-up of the family, or the lack of role models in the land.
The crisis isn't campaign finance, or the outrageous amount of taxes we pay each year. It isn't nuclear warheads pointed at different countries around the world; nor is it the rapid destruction of rain forests. It isn't global warming, natural disasters, man-made pollution, or endangered species. It isn't terrorism, war, or slavery. It isn't the federal reserve, international moneychangers, or even welfare reform. It isn't illiteracy, differentially-abled persons, or unemployment. It is not the economy, stupid.
The crisis we are facing in this country is fear. It is knowing that something is wrong and refusing to rock the boat for fear of being labeled a dissident.
I believe that it was Roosevelt that stated, "The only thing men have to fear is fear itself." Today we have come to understand the meaning of those words all too clearly.
Too many times men and women change the subject rather than face controversial issues. Too many times we tend to give our children the benefit of the doubt rather than offer them advice whether they need it or not. Too many times we defend our public officials simply because we voted for them, rather than hold them accountable to do the job we voted for them to do.
For too long we have allowed the government access to our pocketbooks without saying a word for fear of being labeled a tax-evader. We fear speaking up for our rights to the very people who swore to protect those rights. We fear police who harass and intimidate rather than serve and protect.
We fear arrest at our places of business for failure to I-D eighteen-year-olds who are allowed to die for their country without parental consent but are not allowed to decide whether or not they are responsible enough to drink a beer. We fear arrest for sexual harassment if we ask someone out on a date more than once. We fear being labeled racist if we promote someone of the wrong color, regardless of his or her ability. We fear being labeled stalkers, kooks, or fanatics if we attempt to hold our public officials accountable. We fear being politically incorrect when we speak at a public forum.
Yet we don't realize that the chains of slavery are fastened by fear. It is fear that keeps man from actively pursuing his natural tendencies regarding life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. When we fear we are more inclined to accept 2nd best, rather than strive to have the best at any cost.
There was a time when our heroes were admired for the lack of fear they seemed to show. Today, I am ashamed to say societal stature rather than dissident opinions measure our heroes.
My heroes are still those of the past who uttered such words as "give me liberty or give me death" or "They that can give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety deserve neither liberty nor safety."
If only we could think like those men and have the courage to draw that line in the sand and stand up for our beliefs and control over our own lives as they did. Maybe then we would be able to tip our hats in appreciation of the officer on the streets without fear. We could call our public officials and tell them thank you rather than complain. We could say to our children, "Stand up straight. Show respect. THAT is the president of the United States of America coming."
If we could just have the courage to face our fears and look them in the eye and say, "I'm not backing down. No retreat, no surrender," we might then be able to see a glimmer of hope that our children and our grandchildren will not have to wear the chains of slavery our government has forced upon us in the name of Peace.
We have a crisis in our country today.
The crisis I speak about is not the presidential impeachment hearings. It is not the recent rise in hate crimes. It is not the dangers our children face each day as moms and dads across America drop them off at public schools. It isn't the religious persecutions around the world that seem to be untouchable by the separation of church and state that has been planted in our way of life for the past 30 years. It isn't the crowding of prisons due to victimless crimes; nor is it the rising numbers of deadbeat parents. It isn't the break-up of the family, or the lack of role models in the land.
The crisis isn't campaign finance, or the outrageous amount of taxes we pay each year. It isn't nuclear warheads pointed at different countries around the world; nor is it the rapid destruction of rain forests. It isn't global warming, natural disasters, man-made pollution, or endangered species. It isn't terrorism, war, or slavery. It isn't the federal reserve, international moneychangers, or even welfare reform. It isn't illiteracy, differentially-abled persons, or unemployment. It is not the economy, stupid.
The crisis we are facing in this country is fear. It is knowing that something is wrong and refusing to rock the boat for fear of being labeled a dissident.
I believe that it was Roosevelt that stated, "The only thing men have to fear is fear itself." Today we have come to understand the meaning of those words all too clearly.
Too many times men and women change the subject rather than face controversial issues. Too many times we tend to give our children the benefit of the doubt rather than offer them advice whether they need it or not. Too many times we defend our public officials simply because we voted for them, rather than hold them accountable to do the job we voted for them to do.
For too long we have allowed the government access to our pocketbooks without saying a word for fear of being labeled a tax-evader. We fear speaking up for our rights to the very people who swore to protect those rights. We fear police who harass and intimidate rather than serve and protect.
We fear arrest at our places of business for failure to I-D eighteen-year-olds who are allowed to die for their country without parental consent but are not allowed to decide whether or not they are responsible enough to drink a beer. We fear arrest for sexual harassment if we ask someone out on a date more than once. We fear being labeled racist if we promote someone of the wrong color, regardless of his or her ability. We fear being labeled stalkers, kooks, or fanatics if we attempt to hold our public officials accountable. We fear being politically incorrect when we speak at a public forum.
Yet we don't realize that the chains of slavery are fastened by fear. It is fear that keeps man from actively pursuing his natural tendencies regarding life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. When we fear we are more inclined to accept 2nd best, rather than strive to have the best at any cost.
There was a time when our heroes were admired for the lack of fear they seemed to show. Today, I am ashamed to say societal stature rather than dissident opinions measure our heroes.
My heroes are still those of the past who uttered such words as "give me liberty or give me death" or "They that can give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety deserve neither liberty nor safety."
If only we could think like those men and have the courage to draw that line in the sand and stand up for our beliefs and control over our own lives as they did. Maybe then we would be able to tip our hats in appreciation of the officer on the streets without fear. We could call our public officials and tell them thank you rather than complain. We could say to our children, "Stand up straight. Show respect. THAT is the president of the United States of America coming."
If we could just have the courage to face our fears and look them in the eye and say, "I'm not backing down. No retreat, no surrender," we might then be able to see a glimmer of hope that our children and our grandchildren will not have to wear the chains of slavery our government has forced upon us in the name of Peace.
Freedom is Not Free: a Speech Given at a Waco Remembrance Rally in 1999
The sacrifice that the Branch Davidians made was a price paid for us to all be aware with the knowledge of what is happening in our country. It is a price that, I am sorry to say, not all of us would be willing to make. We all have our excuses.
Speaking of excuses, I won’t mention names, but recently I received an e-mail from a young man whose talents were VERY worthy for the cause. This young man had a knack for making people actually listen to us. He was soft-spoken, sensible, and had the ability to speak his mind without offending the opposition.
We were proud to have him as a part America’s Media Alliance.
He is a prime example of what happens to all of us at one time or another. His frustration at the lack of response from the public, as well as his financial inability caused him to reconsider his position, and to make a long story short, he backed out of the movement.
His reasons were as follows:
*His monthly phone bill was about as much as his rent.
*His travel expenses along with lost wages while pursuing stories was too high.
*There was a lack of help from sponsors.
*He had sympathy with others who were in like positions in the cause.
He quoted a phrase in this letter that was from an essay written by Thomas Paine, “Some men have a strange aversion to arms, yet are willing to risk every shilling in the cause…”
*He has received countless numbers of death threats, which included his wife and his children being threatened.
*He asked the question, “If you live in fear, are you really living?”
*He said that most so-called patriots give in to peer pressure. Most expect everyone else to do the work it takes while they profess themselves to be patriots, yet refuse to get off their behinds and help in whatever way it takes.
This is a quote from his e-mail:
“The simple fact is for all of our hard efforts, for all of our money spent, for all of the time spent bitching at beaurocrats instead of bouncing our children and grandchildren on our knees, very little has changed. People, especially so-called patriots, continue to pay illegal taxes, thumbscan, consent to warrantless searches, and in general, kneel to those that wish to keep them enslaved. The slavemasters in this world actually do little to enslave us. We do all the work for them. We love being slaves. Slaves are secure. They have very well defined boundaries, and hence, little is unknown; the unknown is, after all, what humans fear the most.”
Further into the letter he said:
“Americans sense that as a whole, “patriots” are wishy-washy, and really stand for very little. That is why I no longer have it in me to show up to events myself. I have a very real understanding of Martin Luther King, Jr’s “Letters from a Birmingham Jail” now. This is my letter from the jail I am now freeing myself from. For those of you who have not read it, do so. He writes about his disgust for the “white clergy”. While admitting that racism and racist policies, laws, etc. were wrong, none seemed willing to do very much about it. His disgust stemmed from the fact that they knew the difference between right and wrong, yet continued to perpetuate the wrong. I feel the same. Right now,” he goes on, “In fact, for quite some time, I’ve had more respect for the enemies of this nation that for the patriot community. THEY stand for SOMETHING, even if it’s wrong.”
I read this letter, after I received it, over and over. Each time, I felt a little different.
The first time, I was stunned. He put in words what many of us have felt and have been frustrated with over and over again. We all have given thought at one time or another, for one reason or another, to just throwing up our hands and saying, “I quit.”
After reading it again, more carefully, thoughts began to race through my mind. What if everyone was to feel the way he does and throws in the towel? What hope would our children have? How could we look them in the eye and say, “It was all for you.”
Our Founding Fathers faced loyalty to the crown dead on. They created friendships and a circle of people that they could trust to stand up for their beliefs. They knew that the chance of survival was minimal. They knew that their numbers were small. They knew that what they were asking for was not popular, nor was it supported. Not “politically correct” is the phrase we use today.
When the Revolutionary War was fought, only 3% of the population were among those who stood up with the Founding Fathers. 3%. And that was after exercising their talents in the press for several years. They had written pamphlets, started newspapers, written letters, and held public meetings as well as private ones. They knew that even that was grounds for getting them killed, legally, and with the King’s blessings.
Had they thrown in the towel, we would not feel the need to be able to protect our freedoms today. We would not have the ability to create the press the way we have today. The information would not be important. Many of us would have grown up in a different atmosphere, with different beliefs, because that is all we would have ever been taught.
While I was exploring the Internet the other day, I came across one of Captain Nemo’s web pages. On it was an essay I would like for you to read. It is called “The Price They Paid.” I am including it here with the permission of “Captain Nemo.”
THE PRICE THEY PAID
Author Unknown
Have you ever wondered what happened to the 56 men who signed the Declaration of Independence?
Five signers were captured by the British as traitors and tortured before they died.
Twelve had their homes ransacked and burned. Two lost their sons in the Revolutionary Army, another had two sons captured. Nine of the 56 fought and died from wounds or the hardships of the Revolutionary War.
They signed and pledged their lives, their fortunes, and their sacred honor.
What kind of men where they?
Twenty-four were lawyers and jurists.
Eleven were merchants, nine were farmers and large plantation owners, men of means, well educated.
But they signed the Declaration of Independence knowing full well that the penalty would be death if they were captured.
Carter Braxton of Virginia, a wealthy planter and trader, saw his ships swept from the seas by the British navy. He sold his home and his properties to pay his debts, and died in rags.
Thomas McKeam was so hounded by the British that he was forced to move his family almost constantly. He served in Congress without pay, and his family was kept in hiding. His possessions were taken from him and poverty was his reward.
Vandals or soldiers or both looted the properties of Ellery, Clymer, Hall, Walton, Gwinnett, Heyward, Ruttledge, and Middleton.
At the battle of Yorktown, Thomas Nelson, Jr. noted that the British General Cornwallis, had taken over the Nelson home for his headquarters. The owner quietly urged General George Washington to open fire. The home was destroyed, and Nelson died bankrupt.
Francis Lewis had his home and properties destroyed. The enemy jailed his wife, and she died within a few months.
John Hart was driven from his wife's bedside as she was dying. Their 13 children fled for their lives. His fields and his gristmill were laid to waste. For more than a year he lived in forests and caves, returning home to find his wife dead and his children vanished. A few weeks later he died from exhaustion and a broken heart.
Norris and Livingston suffered similar fates.
Such are the stories and sacrifices of the American Revolution.
These were not wild-eyed, rabble-rousing ruffians. They were soft-spoken men of means and education. They had security, but they valued liberty more. Standing tall, straight, and unwavering, they pledged this pledge:
"For the support of this declaration, with the firm reliance on the protection of the Divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other, our lives, our fortunes, and our sacred honor."
They gave us a free and independent America.
What will you do to keep it?
-----
I thank God for the fight I am fighting today, for the sacrifices I have to make for the cause, and for the friends that are standing up and being counted as one of us. I thank God for those who died and were tortured and were shamed in front of their family and peers so that I COULD stand up today and appreciate the freedoms that I am fighting hard to protect for my children, and my grandchildren.
The Founding Fathers pledged their lives, their fortunes, and their sacred honors so that I COULD stand up today with something worth standing for.
Why should I not give as much as they?
Why should we all not give as much?
In closing, Freedom-Lovers International would like to thank America’s Media Alliance, and all of the freedom-loving alternative media, patriots, and militia groups out there who are fighting tirelessly to reverse the trends of the Elite Special Interest groups, who’s main agenda is to bring us all into slavery in the name of peace.
I honestly believe that we all were chosen to live in this day and age for a reason. And that our great great grandchildren will benefit from our tireless labour.
That, alone, makes the fight worth it.
Speaking of excuses, I won’t mention names, but recently I received an e-mail from a young man whose talents were VERY worthy for the cause. This young man had a knack for making people actually listen to us. He was soft-spoken, sensible, and had the ability to speak his mind without offending the opposition.
We were proud to have him as a part America’s Media Alliance.
He is a prime example of what happens to all of us at one time or another. His frustration at the lack of response from the public, as well as his financial inability caused him to reconsider his position, and to make a long story short, he backed out of the movement.
His reasons were as follows:
*His monthly phone bill was about as much as his rent.
*His travel expenses along with lost wages while pursuing stories was too high.
*There was a lack of help from sponsors.
*He had sympathy with others who were in like positions in the cause.
He quoted a phrase in this letter that was from an essay written by Thomas Paine, “Some men have a strange aversion to arms, yet are willing to risk every shilling in the cause…”
*He has received countless numbers of death threats, which included his wife and his children being threatened.
*He asked the question, “If you live in fear, are you really living?”
*He said that most so-called patriots give in to peer pressure. Most expect everyone else to do the work it takes while they profess themselves to be patriots, yet refuse to get off their behinds and help in whatever way it takes.
This is a quote from his e-mail:
“The simple fact is for all of our hard efforts, for all of our money spent, for all of the time spent bitching at beaurocrats instead of bouncing our children and grandchildren on our knees, very little has changed. People, especially so-called patriots, continue to pay illegal taxes, thumbscan, consent to warrantless searches, and in general, kneel to those that wish to keep them enslaved. The slavemasters in this world actually do little to enslave us. We do all the work for them. We love being slaves. Slaves are secure. They have very well defined boundaries, and hence, little is unknown; the unknown is, after all, what humans fear the most.”
Further into the letter he said:
“Americans sense that as a whole, “patriots” are wishy-washy, and really stand for very little. That is why I no longer have it in me to show up to events myself. I have a very real understanding of Martin Luther King, Jr’s “Letters from a Birmingham Jail” now. This is my letter from the jail I am now freeing myself from. For those of you who have not read it, do so. He writes about his disgust for the “white clergy”. While admitting that racism and racist policies, laws, etc. were wrong, none seemed willing to do very much about it. His disgust stemmed from the fact that they knew the difference between right and wrong, yet continued to perpetuate the wrong. I feel the same. Right now,” he goes on, “In fact, for quite some time, I’ve had more respect for the enemies of this nation that for the patriot community. THEY stand for SOMETHING, even if it’s wrong.”
I read this letter, after I received it, over and over. Each time, I felt a little different.
The first time, I was stunned. He put in words what many of us have felt and have been frustrated with over and over again. We all have given thought at one time or another, for one reason or another, to just throwing up our hands and saying, “I quit.”
After reading it again, more carefully, thoughts began to race through my mind. What if everyone was to feel the way he does and throws in the towel? What hope would our children have? How could we look them in the eye and say, “It was all for you.”
Our Founding Fathers faced loyalty to the crown dead on. They created friendships and a circle of people that they could trust to stand up for their beliefs. They knew that the chance of survival was minimal. They knew that their numbers were small. They knew that what they were asking for was not popular, nor was it supported. Not “politically correct” is the phrase we use today.
When the Revolutionary War was fought, only 3% of the population were among those who stood up with the Founding Fathers. 3%. And that was after exercising their talents in the press for several years. They had written pamphlets, started newspapers, written letters, and held public meetings as well as private ones. They knew that even that was grounds for getting them killed, legally, and with the King’s blessings.
Had they thrown in the towel, we would not feel the need to be able to protect our freedoms today. We would not have the ability to create the press the way we have today. The information would not be important. Many of us would have grown up in a different atmosphere, with different beliefs, because that is all we would have ever been taught.
While I was exploring the Internet the other day, I came across one of Captain Nemo’s web pages. On it was an essay I would like for you to read. It is called “The Price They Paid.” I am including it here with the permission of “Captain Nemo.”
THE PRICE THEY PAID
Author Unknown
Have you ever wondered what happened to the 56 men who signed the Declaration of Independence?
Five signers were captured by the British as traitors and tortured before they died.
Twelve had their homes ransacked and burned. Two lost their sons in the Revolutionary Army, another had two sons captured. Nine of the 56 fought and died from wounds or the hardships of the Revolutionary War.
They signed and pledged their lives, their fortunes, and their sacred honor.
What kind of men where they?
Twenty-four were lawyers and jurists.
Eleven were merchants, nine were farmers and large plantation owners, men of means, well educated.
But they signed the Declaration of Independence knowing full well that the penalty would be death if they were captured.
Carter Braxton of Virginia, a wealthy planter and trader, saw his ships swept from the seas by the British navy. He sold his home and his properties to pay his debts, and died in rags.
Thomas McKeam was so hounded by the British that he was forced to move his family almost constantly. He served in Congress without pay, and his family was kept in hiding. His possessions were taken from him and poverty was his reward.
Vandals or soldiers or both looted the properties of Ellery, Clymer, Hall, Walton, Gwinnett, Heyward, Ruttledge, and Middleton.
At the battle of Yorktown, Thomas Nelson, Jr. noted that the British General Cornwallis, had taken over the Nelson home for his headquarters. The owner quietly urged General George Washington to open fire. The home was destroyed, and Nelson died bankrupt.
Francis Lewis had his home and properties destroyed. The enemy jailed his wife, and she died within a few months.
John Hart was driven from his wife's bedside as she was dying. Their 13 children fled for their lives. His fields and his gristmill were laid to waste. For more than a year he lived in forests and caves, returning home to find his wife dead and his children vanished. A few weeks later he died from exhaustion and a broken heart.
Norris and Livingston suffered similar fates.
Such are the stories and sacrifices of the American Revolution.
These were not wild-eyed, rabble-rousing ruffians. They were soft-spoken men of means and education. They had security, but they valued liberty more. Standing tall, straight, and unwavering, they pledged this pledge:
"For the support of this declaration, with the firm reliance on the protection of the Divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other, our lives, our fortunes, and our sacred honor."
They gave us a free and independent America.
What will you do to keep it?
-----
I thank God for the fight I am fighting today, for the sacrifices I have to make for the cause, and for the friends that are standing up and being counted as one of us. I thank God for those who died and were tortured and were shamed in front of their family and peers so that I COULD stand up today and appreciate the freedoms that I am fighting hard to protect for my children, and my grandchildren.
The Founding Fathers pledged their lives, their fortunes, and their sacred honors so that I COULD stand up today with something worth standing for.
Why should I not give as much as they?
Why should we all not give as much?
In closing, Freedom-Lovers International would like to thank America’s Media Alliance, and all of the freedom-loving alternative media, patriots, and militia groups out there who are fighting tirelessly to reverse the trends of the Elite Special Interest groups, who’s main agenda is to bring us all into slavery in the name of peace.
I honestly believe that we all were chosen to live in this day and age for a reason. And that our great great grandchildren will benefit from our tireless labour.
That, alone, makes the fight worth it.
God is a Terrorist?
(Originally written after 9/11 on January 2, 2002 by Shonda Ponder)
The Associated Propagandist, I mean Press, has reported that residents in Boca Raton, Florida have panicked because a skywriter wanted to spread a Godly message by writing it in the sky.
Geez. What's the world coming to?
No doubt, if Jerry Stevens, who wrote "God is Great" in the sky, would have wrote, "Bush is Numero Uno" instead, the AP wouldn't have had a story. So why, all of a sudden, has God become the enemy?
It's a shameful world in which we live when we have to be afraid of being labeled as a terrorist just because we mention the word God. After all, Jerry didn't write "Allah is Great". The panick would have been conceivable if he had, though still not right. After all, it wasn't God-fearing men that attacked the World Trade Centers. It was followers of Allah.
Here, in this great country, where one is free to believe in any God he wants, we are now being asked to keep God hidden because it might terrorize somebody. Just who, pray tell, are the paranoid extremists in this country when we can write "Busch Beer, Tastes Great" but not "God is Great" in the clouds? Who, really, are the paranoid extremists?
Most of the Right-Wing "extremists" that I know want only one thing: they want to be left alone. They want to live their lives as they see fit, and not have to get arrested or harassed when they leave their homes to travel. They don't call the cops when they see a mother chastise her young child in public for misbehaving. They don't call the FBI when they see their neighbors bring in some rough-looking individuals next door--until it affects them directly. Yet, when they try to homeschool their children, some nosy, paranoid neighbor wants to call CPS on them. When they return home from a hunting trip, the FBI seems to want to butt in because some extremely paranoid person wants to get rid of that "terrorist" in their neighborhood. Or, some Rosy O'Donnel groupie thinks he must be a criminal since he has a .22 Shotgun.
Face it, all us conservative parents can't even let our children be children because some crazy, paranoid teacher might be alarmed if our children want to play cops and robbers, or draws a gun. We are becoming a society that lables homosexuality as normal while they try to institutionalize anyone who believes in the Right to Keep and Bear Arms. It's okay to teach our young children about sex in schools and that sex is natural so long as it feels good, but it is wrong for a grown man to ask someone out on a date more than once lest he be accused of sexual harassment.
And now, God is a terrorist. Go figure.
The Associated Propagandist, I mean Press, has reported that residents in Boca Raton, Florida have panicked because a skywriter wanted to spread a Godly message by writing it in the sky.
Geez. What's the world coming to?
No doubt, if Jerry Stevens, who wrote "God is Great" in the sky, would have wrote, "Bush is Numero Uno" instead, the AP wouldn't have had a story. So why, all of a sudden, has God become the enemy?
It's a shameful world in which we live when we have to be afraid of being labeled as a terrorist just because we mention the word God. After all, Jerry didn't write "Allah is Great". The panick would have been conceivable if he had, though still not right. After all, it wasn't God-fearing men that attacked the World Trade Centers. It was followers of Allah.
Here, in this great country, where one is free to believe in any God he wants, we are now being asked to keep God hidden because it might terrorize somebody. Just who, pray tell, are the paranoid extremists in this country when we can write "Busch Beer, Tastes Great" but not "God is Great" in the clouds? Who, really, are the paranoid extremists?
Most of the Right-Wing "extremists" that I know want only one thing: they want to be left alone. They want to live their lives as they see fit, and not have to get arrested or harassed when they leave their homes to travel. They don't call the cops when they see a mother chastise her young child in public for misbehaving. They don't call the FBI when they see their neighbors bring in some rough-looking individuals next door--until it affects them directly. Yet, when they try to homeschool their children, some nosy, paranoid neighbor wants to call CPS on them. When they return home from a hunting trip, the FBI seems to want to butt in because some extremely paranoid person wants to get rid of that "terrorist" in their neighborhood. Or, some Rosy O'Donnel groupie thinks he must be a criminal since he has a .22 Shotgun.
Face it, all us conservative parents can't even let our children be children because some crazy, paranoid teacher might be alarmed if our children want to play cops and robbers, or draws a gun. We are becoming a society that lables homosexuality as normal while they try to institutionalize anyone who believes in the Right to Keep and Bear Arms. It's okay to teach our young children about sex in schools and that sex is natural so long as it feels good, but it is wrong for a grown man to ask someone out on a date more than once lest he be accused of sexual harassment.
And now, God is a terrorist. Go figure.
Bend Over, America!
(Originally written on November 4, 2001 by Shonda Ponder)
Over the past few years we've seen big changes in how our government operates. In the wake of the "War Against Terrorism," we are all called to make certain personal decisions that never before were questionable in our minds.
Most of us won't ask, we'll just follow the status quo, calling it "necessary" in light of the circumstances. Others will protest, while signing the dotted lines and giving their souls to the enemy. A few others will scream, and be incarcerated for failure to comply with the new standards. In the end, they, too, will give in--thinking they will be able to scream better if they just follow the rules. And, some will die fighting the monster that our government has become, and be written off as being whacked out mentally, or dangerous kookes.
This is the New World Order. Know it. Recognize it. Call it what it is. In the end, there is nothing you can do to stop it. The only thing you can do is decide how you want to get screwed.
Recently, 2nd Amendment advocates were appalled at the intent of the UN to interfere with national sovereignty in an attempt to disarm the world. Many of those same people are so busy trying to "get used to the new normality" since the September 11 attacks that they have not paid attention to what is going on with the UN now--and Bush will be able to effectively sign over any sovereign status our Bill of Rights has in order to further the agenda of the New World Order.
The New World Order has only one obstacle in its way. A world-type government must be able to agree with member nations on one idea, and then work from the foundation of that one idea to create effectively a government capable of ruling the world.
What agreement must the world reach a consensus on in order to create this "New World Order?" The question of who is to be considered a terrorist. After all, if a person is not considered a terrorist threat by the United States, and the United Nations wishes to punish the person for allegedly being a terrorist, this will cause friction between the two entities. They must both come to the same consensus on, not just who, but how a terrorist is labeled as a terrorist.
In the end, there will be only one way to label a terrorist. A terrorist will be anyone who disagrees with the policies and agendas set forth by the government, and is a potential obstacle in the way of it's goals.
In order to make sure that there is so-called "justice" against the alleged terrorists, the government must be able to find and root out any potential "problems" inside its borders. Many have debated the use of the National ID as a means of deterring terrorists. The idea was quickly struck down as being too blatant and "too much" for the people to accept right now. But that hasn't stopped New World Order proponents as they have searched to find an alternative solution to this problem.
The answer to that problem has almost been reached by utilizing the tools already available and in place for such an introduction: the driver's license.
The Executive Committee of the American Association of Motor Vehicle Administrators (AAMVA) passed a resolution recently establishing a Special Task Force on Identification Security. The Task Force will build relationships with other stakeholders, including Congress and federal agencies such as the departments of Transportation, Justice and State, the U.S. Immigration and Naturalization Service, the U.S. Social Security Administration and the President’s Office of Homeland Security, to improve coordination and credentialing security.
"There's no need to create a new national ID card," said Jason King, the group's spokesman, according to an article in the Washington Post, "Let's just make what we have better."
But the AAMVA is not the only group working on such technology to insure identification. Drexler Technology Corporation develops and manufactures LaserCard(R) optical memory cards and chip-ready Smart/Optical(TM) cards -- a combination of optical memory card and smart card. LaserCard optical memory cards are used for "Laser Visa" border crossing ID cards, resident immigrant ID cards, and national ID cards, which are "digital governance" and "homeland security" applications.
"Digital governance" and "homeland security" applications represent Drexler's principal LaserCard markets today. "Digital governance" means the utilization of digital information technology to facilitate or expedite the process of governing by a nation, state, region, municipality, agency, institution, or commercial enterprise. The card is used for identification and as proof that the cardholder is authorized and has been granted certain rights and privileges by the card issuer. The LaserCard's high-security features inhibit counterfeiting and data tampering and provide controlled access to the benefits granted by the card issuer. For "homeland security" applications, the emphasis is on denying unauthorized persons those rights and privileges.
Drexler Technology and its wholly owned subsidiary, LaserCard Systems Corporation, are based in Mountain View, where Drexler manufactures cards and LaserCard Systems manufactures optical card read/write drives, develops optical card system software, and markets card-related data systems and peripherals. In addition to the "Laser Visa" cards made for the U.S. Department of State and the digital permanent resident "Green Card" made for the U.S. Immigration and Naturalization Service, Drexler Technology also makes optical memory cards for other customers, such as the U.S. Department of Defense, the Government of Italy, and a state government of India.
One can see how easy it would be to incorportate identification data into one computer, under one legal entity that can be easily controlled by the government.
Identitrak is a UK based company that works to provide microchip implants for pets and other animals that can be used for tracking their behaviors and whereabouts. Recently, they have began working with the local Crimestoppers communities to help catch thieves. How easy would it be for such a company to decide to provide such technology for the implementation of a national identification?
In order to bring about the acceptance of the New World Order (in all its facets), the need for it must be made strong enough for the people to accept it. If people were not afraid of terrorists, would people accept Gray Davis's actions securing the bridges or the highways in California. Patience has been urged by the California Homeland Defense task force, and the people are accepting it.
With the possibility of biometric microchips, which are already being used by some health centers to regulate drugs within the body, come the need to get the people to accept such a dire idea. On October 17, 2001, Vermont Senator Patrick Leahy said on the floor of Congress, "We also must make sure we develop the best possible biometric technology to identify potential terrorists entering the United States, such as facial recognition or fingerprint systems. The USA Act includes a section proposed by Senator Cantwell that requires the Attorney General to report to Congress on the feasibility of enhancing the FBI’s Integrated Automated Fingerprint Identification System and other systems to better identify people with foreign passports or visas who may be wanted in connection with criminal investigations in the United States or abroad."
Right now the people will accept this because it only affects immigrants. But, sooner or later, immigration will prove too broad a spectrum to keep up with, and the only solution will be to have everyone, including the citizens of the US, entered into a national database.
Once all of the countries of the world follow suit, the only obstacle standing in the way of the "New World Order" will be to incorporate all of the information into a single database. The United Nations will only need access to each member country's computers in order to accomplish this.
According to the book of Revelations in the Bible (KJV), Chapter 13, verses 16 and 17, it says, "and he causeth all, both small and great, rich and poor, free and bond, to receive a mark in their right hand or in their foreheads, and that no man might buy or sell, save he that had the mark, or the name of the beast, or the number of his name."
This verse alone will cause the powers that be to question the loyalty of those who claim to be Christian. The paranoia that has been let loose by the governments in response to the terroristic threat on the nations will not stop at condemning anyone who refuses to take a stand against the idea of a national identification for religious reasons. After all, if they are not FOR their government and it's agenda, then they are against it. And if they are against it, then they are terrorists, and will need to be made obsolete.
In closing, America is no longer the home of the brave and the land of the free. We have effectively traded all that in, in order to prevent further terrorist attacks. Because we will be powerless now to stop the scope of powers we have given our government, we will see a pale horse with a rider named "Death" who will kill a quarter of the world's population by violence, hunger and pestilence.
Now is a critical moment. We must stand to oppose this. We must stand up for every last tittle of what made our American way of life so great. If we do not do so now...
Bend over America. Time to reap what we sow.
Over the past few years we've seen big changes in how our government operates. In the wake of the "War Against Terrorism," we are all called to make certain personal decisions that never before were questionable in our minds.
Most of us won't ask, we'll just follow the status quo, calling it "necessary" in light of the circumstances. Others will protest, while signing the dotted lines and giving their souls to the enemy. A few others will scream, and be incarcerated for failure to comply with the new standards. In the end, they, too, will give in--thinking they will be able to scream better if they just follow the rules. And, some will die fighting the monster that our government has become, and be written off as being whacked out mentally, or dangerous kookes.
This is the New World Order. Know it. Recognize it. Call it what it is. In the end, there is nothing you can do to stop it. The only thing you can do is decide how you want to get screwed.
Recently, 2nd Amendment advocates were appalled at the intent of the UN to interfere with national sovereignty in an attempt to disarm the world. Many of those same people are so busy trying to "get used to the new normality" since the September 11 attacks that they have not paid attention to what is going on with the UN now--and Bush will be able to effectively sign over any sovereign status our Bill of Rights has in order to further the agenda of the New World Order.
The New World Order has only one obstacle in its way. A world-type government must be able to agree with member nations on one idea, and then work from the foundation of that one idea to create effectively a government capable of ruling the world.
What agreement must the world reach a consensus on in order to create this "New World Order?" The question of who is to be considered a terrorist. After all, if a person is not considered a terrorist threat by the United States, and the United Nations wishes to punish the person for allegedly being a terrorist, this will cause friction between the two entities. They must both come to the same consensus on, not just who, but how a terrorist is labeled as a terrorist.
In the end, there will be only one way to label a terrorist. A terrorist will be anyone who disagrees with the policies and agendas set forth by the government, and is a potential obstacle in the way of it's goals.
In order to make sure that there is so-called "justice" against the alleged terrorists, the government must be able to find and root out any potential "problems" inside its borders. Many have debated the use of the National ID as a means of deterring terrorists. The idea was quickly struck down as being too blatant and "too much" for the people to accept right now. But that hasn't stopped New World Order proponents as they have searched to find an alternative solution to this problem.
The answer to that problem has almost been reached by utilizing the tools already available and in place for such an introduction: the driver's license.
The Executive Committee of the American Association of Motor Vehicle Administrators (AAMVA) passed a resolution recently establishing a Special Task Force on Identification Security. The Task Force will build relationships with other stakeholders, including Congress and federal agencies such as the departments of Transportation, Justice and State, the U.S. Immigration and Naturalization Service, the U.S. Social Security Administration and the President’s Office of Homeland Security, to improve coordination and credentialing security.
"There's no need to create a new national ID card," said Jason King, the group's spokesman, according to an article in the Washington Post, "Let's just make what we have better."
But the AAMVA is not the only group working on such technology to insure identification. Drexler Technology Corporation develops and manufactures LaserCard(R) optical memory cards and chip-ready Smart/Optical(TM) cards -- a combination of optical memory card and smart card. LaserCard optical memory cards are used for "Laser Visa" border crossing ID cards, resident immigrant ID cards, and national ID cards, which are "digital governance" and "homeland security" applications.
"Digital governance" and "homeland security" applications represent Drexler's principal LaserCard markets today. "Digital governance" means the utilization of digital information technology to facilitate or expedite the process of governing by a nation, state, region, municipality, agency, institution, or commercial enterprise. The card is used for identification and as proof that the cardholder is authorized and has been granted certain rights and privileges by the card issuer. The LaserCard's high-security features inhibit counterfeiting and data tampering and provide controlled access to the benefits granted by the card issuer. For "homeland security" applications, the emphasis is on denying unauthorized persons those rights and privileges.
Drexler Technology and its wholly owned subsidiary, LaserCard Systems Corporation, are based in Mountain View, where Drexler manufactures cards and LaserCard Systems manufactures optical card read/write drives, develops optical card system software, and markets card-related data systems and peripherals. In addition to the "Laser Visa" cards made for the U.S. Department of State and the digital permanent resident "Green Card" made for the U.S. Immigration and Naturalization Service, Drexler Technology also makes optical memory cards for other customers, such as the U.S. Department of Defense, the Government of Italy, and a state government of India.
One can see how easy it would be to incorportate identification data into one computer, under one legal entity that can be easily controlled by the government.
Identitrak is a UK based company that works to provide microchip implants for pets and other animals that can be used for tracking their behaviors and whereabouts. Recently, they have began working with the local Crimestoppers communities to help catch thieves. How easy would it be for such a company to decide to provide such technology for the implementation of a national identification?
In order to bring about the acceptance of the New World Order (in all its facets), the need for it must be made strong enough for the people to accept it. If people were not afraid of terrorists, would people accept Gray Davis's actions securing the bridges or the highways in California. Patience has been urged by the California Homeland Defense task force, and the people are accepting it.
With the possibility of biometric microchips, which are already being used by some health centers to regulate drugs within the body, come the need to get the people to accept such a dire idea. On October 17, 2001, Vermont Senator Patrick Leahy said on the floor of Congress, "We also must make sure we develop the best possible biometric technology to identify potential terrorists entering the United States, such as facial recognition or fingerprint systems. The USA Act includes a section proposed by Senator Cantwell that requires the Attorney General to report to Congress on the feasibility of enhancing the FBI’s Integrated Automated Fingerprint Identification System and other systems to better identify people with foreign passports or visas who may be wanted in connection with criminal investigations in the United States or abroad."
Right now the people will accept this because it only affects immigrants. But, sooner or later, immigration will prove too broad a spectrum to keep up with, and the only solution will be to have everyone, including the citizens of the US, entered into a national database.
Once all of the countries of the world follow suit, the only obstacle standing in the way of the "New World Order" will be to incorporate all of the information into a single database. The United Nations will only need access to each member country's computers in order to accomplish this.
According to the book of Revelations in the Bible (KJV), Chapter 13, verses 16 and 17, it says, "and he causeth all, both small and great, rich and poor, free and bond, to receive a mark in their right hand or in their foreheads, and that no man might buy or sell, save he that had the mark, or the name of the beast, or the number of his name."
This verse alone will cause the powers that be to question the loyalty of those who claim to be Christian. The paranoia that has been let loose by the governments in response to the terroristic threat on the nations will not stop at condemning anyone who refuses to take a stand against the idea of a national identification for religious reasons. After all, if they are not FOR their government and it's agenda, then they are against it. And if they are against it, then they are terrorists, and will need to be made obsolete.
In closing, America is no longer the home of the brave and the land of the free. We have effectively traded all that in, in order to prevent further terrorist attacks. Because we will be powerless now to stop the scope of powers we have given our government, we will see a pale horse with a rider named "Death" who will kill a quarter of the world's population by violence, hunger and pestilence.
Now is a critical moment. We must stand to oppose this. We must stand up for every last tittle of what made our American way of life so great. If we do not do so now...
Bend over America. Time to reap what we sow.
The Lord's On My Shoulder
The Lord's On My Shoulder
Originally Written in 1980 (I was twelve) by Shonda Ponder (me)
The Lord's on my shoulder
And he's getting bolder
As long as my live is lived
He's getting stronger
and it won't be longer
Til my soul I will give
He's my only sight
And I know I'm right
As to where my last flight will be
He's my only strength
As I climb the length
Of the golden stairs I see
He's all history
He's a big mystery
The Lord, He knows everything
He's bigger than the world
Stronger than the wind
And softer than the music I sing
I do not worry
For I cannot hurry
This life that is passing me by
For in days ahead
As I am led
The garden I see will be nigh
Originally Written in 1980 (I was twelve) by Shonda Ponder (me)
The Lord's on my shoulder
And he's getting bolder
As long as my live is lived
He's getting stronger
and it won't be longer
Til my soul I will give
He's my only sight
And I know I'm right
As to where my last flight will be
He's my only strength
As I climb the length
Of the golden stairs I see
He's all history
He's a big mystery
The Lord, He knows everything
He's bigger than the world
Stronger than the wind
And softer than the music I sing
I do not worry
For I cannot hurry
This life that is passing me by
For in days ahead
As I am led
The garden I see will be nigh
God Give Us Strength
God Give Us Strength
1983, by Shonda Ponder
Dear Lord, give me strength
to understand
the meaning of his love for me
Oh, God, give us leingth
so our love can
last throughout eternity
Jesus, give us love
forever-lasting
so we can give our love a lifetime go
And, Father, like cooing white doves
let ours fly higher
and each day, let our love grow
1983, by Shonda Ponder
Dear Lord, give me strength
to understand
the meaning of his love for me
Oh, God, give us leingth
so our love can
last throughout eternity
Jesus, give us love
forever-lasting
so we can give our love a lifetime go
And, Father, like cooing white doves
let ours fly higher
and each day, let our love grow
I Warned You
September 23, 1992 by Shonda Ponder
Did you honestly think I'd wait forever
Each time you pushed me away?
Did you not take my heartaches into consideration
Each time I begged you to stay?
Did you think I'd hold on and never let go
And that my heart would never grow cold?
While you were laughing at my crying shame
I warned you that it would get old
I warned you a long time ago
But you took for granted my needs
I said that I could get over you
But you took for granted my pleas
And now someone else is holding my heart
Right in the palm of his hand
And now you think I should say I'm sorry?
Is it beyond you to understand?
I don't love you anymore
I closed my heart and locked the door
I gave you love too much before
Now I don't love you anymore
And I'm not sorry for what I've done
The clouds are gone; I see the sun
I know I left you all alone
But I'm not sorry for what I've done
Did you honestly think I'd wait forever
Each time you pushed me away?
Did you not take my heartaches into consideration
Each time I begged you to stay?
Did you think I'd hold on and never let go
And that my heart would never grow cold?
While you were laughing at my crying shame
I warned you that it would get old
I warned you a long time ago
But you took for granted my needs
I said that I could get over you
But you took for granted my pleas
And now someone else is holding my heart
Right in the palm of his hand
And now you think I should say I'm sorry?
Is it beyond you to understand?
I don't love you anymore
I closed my heart and locked the door
I gave you love too much before
Now I don't love you anymore
And I'm not sorry for what I've done
The clouds are gone; I see the sun
I know I left you all alone
But I'm not sorry for what I've done
Butch: My Hero
I was about two-years-old when my dad brought home a tiny puppy, not more than five weeks old. He was black, with brown markings on his nose and around his feet. He wasn’t a pedigree, or specially bred dog. He was just a mutt. My dad told me his name was Butch. After that, Butch became my hero.
My mother didn’t like animals in the house, so we made him a bed of old shirts and rags and placed him in the garage. Every day I would play with Butch, pulling him by the ears, or picking him up by the legs. I was just a baby, myself, so Butch didn’t really mind.
As he grew, he would follow me around the yard. When I would slide down the slide, Butch wanted to slide, too. It wasn’t long before he learned to climb the ladder behind me, and slide down near my back.
When my mom re-married, we moved to the country. There were woods all around us, with a beautiful pond, and a large garden during the summer -- with all kinds of vegetables growing in it. Butch would follow us down the trail to the garden, and bark at all the bugs and grasshoppers that he would stir up, on the way.
During the spring, we would go camping at the lake, and Butch would welcome the invitation my step-dad would give him to jump in the back of the pick-up and go with us. He liked to follow us into the water, and splash the water on us, when he would shake his black fur at the shoreline. At home, he could be found on the porch most of the time, basking in the warm heat, as his tongue hung out of his mouth.
On fall mornings, he would bark to warn me that the school bus was on the way. Later in the afternoon, he would be there to greet me when I got off of the same bus. He would walk in front of me, to warn me of holes in the road, or snakes I might not see.
During the winter, it would sleet and snow. We would go outside and skate on the ice, in our front yard. One year, Butch re-discovered the slide. My neighbors and I would laugh at him, when he would climb the ladder and slide halfway across the yard, then turn around and do it again.He thought it was fun.
One spring, when my baby sister was only three, I was left to care for her while my mother went to work. I sent my sister outside to play while I fixed lunch. I knew Butch would take care of her.
It wasn’t long after she went outside, that I heard her scream, and Butch was barking madly. I opened the door to see what the problem was and heard her scream, “SNAKE!” She was doing as she had been taught to do when she saw a snake, she was standing still and screaming for help.
I ran out there to see the snake better; then I knew I had to get her out of striking distance of the snake. I didn’t have any idea how I was going to do that. Finally, I said, “Butch, I need you to get his attention so I can kill him.” I didn’t expect Butch to respond, but he did.
Miraculously, Butch picked up a stick in his mouth; then ran to the other side of the snake, away from my sister. He tossed the stick in the air and barked. The snake turned around and struck toward him, missing him, and giving my sister time to run away. I went into the shed and brought back a hoe, and with Butch’s help, I killed the snake.
A few years later, I spent the summer with my real dad. When I came back home, Butch could hardly walk. I was informed that he had heart worms, and that the doctor said there was nothing he could do for him. I spent the next few weeks feeding him and petting him. Finally, one day, I cried as I told him I loved him.
“You’re the best dog anybody could have ever had,” I told him, “And, I’m gonna miss you something awful. But, I don’t know what to do to make you better.”
The next day, he was gone. I guess he knew that I was saying goodbye. A few months later, we found him in an old bathtub full of water at the edge of the woods. It was his way of sparing me anymore pain.
In this life, you are likely to cross paths with many heroes. If a hero’s qualifications aren’t limited to human beings, then I would have to say that my dog, Butch, was definitely one of mine.
=============
My mother didn’t like animals in the house, so we made him a bed of old shirts and rags and placed him in the garage. Every day I would play with Butch, pulling him by the ears, or picking him up by the legs. I was just a baby, myself, so Butch didn’t really mind.
As he grew, he would follow me around the yard. When I would slide down the slide, Butch wanted to slide, too. It wasn’t long before he learned to climb the ladder behind me, and slide down near my back.
When my mom re-married, we moved to the country. There were woods all around us, with a beautiful pond, and a large garden during the summer -- with all kinds of vegetables growing in it. Butch would follow us down the trail to the garden, and bark at all the bugs and grasshoppers that he would stir up, on the way.
During the spring, we would go camping at the lake, and Butch would welcome the invitation my step-dad would give him to jump in the back of the pick-up and go with us. He liked to follow us into the water, and splash the water on us, when he would shake his black fur at the shoreline. At home, he could be found on the porch most of the time, basking in the warm heat, as his tongue hung out of his mouth.
On fall mornings, he would bark to warn me that the school bus was on the way. Later in the afternoon, he would be there to greet me when I got off of the same bus. He would walk in front of me, to warn me of holes in the road, or snakes I might not see.
During the winter, it would sleet and snow. We would go outside and skate on the ice, in our front yard. One year, Butch re-discovered the slide. My neighbors and I would laugh at him, when he would climb the ladder and slide halfway across the yard, then turn around and do it again.He thought it was fun.
One spring, when my baby sister was only three, I was left to care for her while my mother went to work. I sent my sister outside to play while I fixed lunch. I knew Butch would take care of her.
It wasn’t long after she went outside, that I heard her scream, and Butch was barking madly. I opened the door to see what the problem was and heard her scream, “SNAKE!” She was doing as she had been taught to do when she saw a snake, she was standing still and screaming for help.
I ran out there to see the snake better; then I knew I had to get her out of striking distance of the snake. I didn’t have any idea how I was going to do that. Finally, I said, “Butch, I need you to get his attention so I can kill him.” I didn’t expect Butch to respond, but he did.
Miraculously, Butch picked up a stick in his mouth; then ran to the other side of the snake, away from my sister. He tossed the stick in the air and barked. The snake turned around and struck toward him, missing him, and giving my sister time to run away. I went into the shed and brought back a hoe, and with Butch’s help, I killed the snake.
A few years later, I spent the summer with my real dad. When I came back home, Butch could hardly walk. I was informed that he had heart worms, and that the doctor said there was nothing he could do for him. I spent the next few weeks feeding him and petting him. Finally, one day, I cried as I told him I loved him.
“You’re the best dog anybody could have ever had,” I told him, “And, I’m gonna miss you something awful. But, I don’t know what to do to make you better.”
The next day, he was gone. I guess he knew that I was saying goodbye. A few months later, we found him in an old bathtub full of water at the edge of the woods. It was his way of sparing me anymore pain.
In this life, you are likely to cross paths with many heroes. If a hero’s qualifications aren’t limited to human beings, then I would have to say that my dog, Butch, was definitely one of mine.
=============
Losers
May 16, 2002 - by Shonda Ponder
One of the things that frustrates me the most about Patriots and Freedom-lovers is their overwhelming desire to lose. While we keep griping on email lists and websites about how the government is infringing on our rights, we are, in essence, contributing to the government's efforts to expunge our Bill of Rights by refusing to do anything about it.
Here are some common phrases that I get tired of hearing on a day to day basis.
"The American People are uneducated. What the American People needs is to be educated on how their rights are being taken away, then they will do something about it!"
The reality is, most Americans DO know what is going on. The problem that the general public has with this "educated information" is that they don't know what to do with it, or about it. What needs to happen, in my honest opinion, is that the American People need to be taught how to write letters to their congressmen. They don't need to be told that they should. It isn't that they don't think it would work, it's that they don't know how to do it!
I know this because I can sit here and tell someone who runs yourwebsiteforfreedom.org that they should send out a press release about their website, and nine times out of ten, I will get ignored. When I finally get down to the root of the problem, it turns out that they do not feel confident in sending those press releases because they don't know how, or who to send them to.
"That organization only wants to make money. So, I won't support them"
Okay, let's look at this phrase for a minute: Let's say the organization in question has a website at 101gunfacts.org. And, let's pretend that this website gets five million hits a day. That would make their internet bill closed to $600 per month. Their phone bill is likely $500 per month, due to phone calls to radio stations, and people who need their story verified on gun infringements. And, if 101gunfacts is a news site, they have to use the telephone to do interviews, and $500 is really a REAL low estimate of what it probably actually costs. This does not include postal newsletters for people who do not own a computer. The monthly mail-out costs including shipping and handling can run close to $200 per month (again, a REAL low estimate of the probable actual cost). The organization probably employs someone to work and update the site if it is updated daily -- which amounts to at least another $500 per month in service fees for scripts and software, and let's not forget labor.
Now, let's say they send out an email that asks people to donate. They get 2% of the total emails sent out that will respond. That is roughly one hundred thousand people who visit their website who will more than likely write to encourage them to keep up the good work. But, the scary part is that only 2% of those will donate anything to support them. So, 2,000 people end up sending a donation that they probably will only send once per year. Do you think that will cover the costs of running such a large organization (especially if the organization has a recruitment program, complete with Television and radio ads that also cost quite a bit of money -- and let's not forget the staff members who often have to work full time for the organization and have families to feed and bills to pay as well!) for the whole year?
And you wonder why they keep asking for donations, or they start offering products for sale to meet their expenses? There is no such thing as a free ride, even when it's free.
By not supporting that organization you are helping the government infringe on your rights.
"We had a rally for (your favorite cause) the other day, and none of the media showed up!"
Oh, that's a good one. Let me ask you this: Did the chairmen of the organization who put together the rally send out timely press releases that were professionally written? By this I mean, did they check for spelling, punctuation and grammar, and did they provide the correct contact information, complete with dates and times. And did they hold a press conference about the rally at the rally, after sending a media advisory inviting the media to attend? Nine times out of ten, the answer is "No".
But, people like to complain about being ignored, don't they?
"No one supported (your event)"
Before the event, did you solicit the support of nearby businesses? Did you search for sponsors aggressively? Or, did you just put up a passive note on your web page about needing sponsors, while you negated to send a press release out about the existence of your website?
If you want to do something pro-active, rather than complain about what is not being done, the best thing you can do for your cause is learn how to promote it.
"If cowardly and dishonorable men sometimes shoot unarmed men with army pistols or guns, the evil must be prevented by the penitentiary and gallows, and not by a general deprivation of a constitutional privilege." - Arkansas Supreme Court, 1878
One of the things that frustrates me the most about Patriots and Freedom-lovers is their overwhelming desire to lose. While we keep griping on email lists and websites about how the government is infringing on our rights, we are, in essence, contributing to the government's efforts to expunge our Bill of Rights by refusing to do anything about it.
Here are some common phrases that I get tired of hearing on a day to day basis.
"The American People are uneducated. What the American People needs is to be educated on how their rights are being taken away, then they will do something about it!"
The reality is, most Americans DO know what is going on. The problem that the general public has with this "educated information" is that they don't know what to do with it, or about it. What needs to happen, in my honest opinion, is that the American People need to be taught how to write letters to their congressmen. They don't need to be told that they should. It isn't that they don't think it would work, it's that they don't know how to do it!
I know this because I can sit here and tell someone who runs yourwebsiteforfreedom.org that they should send out a press release about their website, and nine times out of ten, I will get ignored. When I finally get down to the root of the problem, it turns out that they do not feel confident in sending those press releases because they don't know how, or who to send them to.
"That organization only wants to make money. So, I won't support them"
Okay, let's look at this phrase for a minute: Let's say the organization in question has a website at 101gunfacts.org. And, let's pretend that this website gets five million hits a day. That would make their internet bill closed to $600 per month. Their phone bill is likely $500 per month, due to phone calls to radio stations, and people who need their story verified on gun infringements. And, if 101gunfacts is a news site, they have to use the telephone to do interviews, and $500 is really a REAL low estimate of what it probably actually costs. This does not include postal newsletters for people who do not own a computer. The monthly mail-out costs including shipping and handling can run close to $200 per month (again, a REAL low estimate of the probable actual cost). The organization probably employs someone to work and update the site if it is updated daily -- which amounts to at least another $500 per month in service fees for scripts and software, and let's not forget labor.
Now, let's say they send out an email that asks people to donate. They get 2% of the total emails sent out that will respond. That is roughly one hundred thousand people who visit their website who will more than likely write to encourage them to keep up the good work. But, the scary part is that only 2% of those will donate anything to support them. So, 2,000 people end up sending a donation that they probably will only send once per year. Do you think that will cover the costs of running such a large organization (especially if the organization has a recruitment program, complete with Television and radio ads that also cost quite a bit of money -- and let's not forget the staff members who often have to work full time for the organization and have families to feed and bills to pay as well!) for the whole year?
And you wonder why they keep asking for donations, or they start offering products for sale to meet their expenses? There is no such thing as a free ride, even when it's free.
By not supporting that organization you are helping the government infringe on your rights.
"We had a rally for (your favorite cause) the other day, and none of the media showed up!"
Oh, that's a good one. Let me ask you this: Did the chairmen of the organization who put together the rally send out timely press releases that were professionally written? By this I mean, did they check for spelling, punctuation and grammar, and did they provide the correct contact information, complete with dates and times. And did they hold a press conference about the rally at the rally, after sending a media advisory inviting the media to attend? Nine times out of ten, the answer is "No".
But, people like to complain about being ignored, don't they?
"No one supported (your event)"
Before the event, did you solicit the support of nearby businesses? Did you search for sponsors aggressively? Or, did you just put up a passive note on your web page about needing sponsors, while you negated to send a press release out about the existence of your website?
If you want to do something pro-active, rather than complain about what is not being done, the best thing you can do for your cause is learn how to promote it.
"If cowardly and dishonorable men sometimes shoot unarmed men with army pistols or guns, the evil must be prevented by the penitentiary and gallows, and not by a general deprivation of a constitutional privilege." - Arkansas Supreme Court, 1878
What is a “Hero”?
When people think of heroes they are likely to think of presidents, or cartoon characters. Some people think of their favorite football player.Others have more simple heroes, such as the local policeman or fireman. Few people actually stop to consider what heroism really is.
True heroes don’t “leap tall buildings in a single bound” as Superman does.Nevertheless, Superman is considered a fictional hero because he saves people from impending disaster. One wonders whether Superman would be so quick to rescue those in need if he were a mere human.
Heroes are not heroes just because they are elected president, although some presidents may be heroes. George Washington could be considered a hero because he led an inexperienced army against the mighty military of England. His actions have helped secure a better future for us all.
People who speak well in public are not necessarily heroes, either – although some public speakers have become heroes. You must ask yourself if you think George Bush isa hero because he made a great State of the Union Speech, or is he a hero because he freed the Iraqi people?
The local fireman who goes to work every day to put out fires is not a hero simply because he is a fireman. He is a hero because he risks his lifeto save those who put themselves in danger’s way. And, those firemen who left their homes and traveled thousands of miles just to help the 9/11 victims in New York City are heroes, indeed.
Heroes are made through action, not position. Heroes are those special people who are worth emulating, because they take no thought to the safety of their own lives when they reach out to others. They are the soldiers who throw themselves on grenades to savesomeone’s life. They are the men who lead a nation to change at the cost of a bullet in thehead. They are the ones who throw your child out of the street when a car is sure to hit them. Heroes are heroic because they are willing to make sacrifices to ensure the safety of others, without hesitation, and without thought to their own well-being.
Heroism is the ultimate act of unselfishness.
True heroes don’t “leap tall buildings in a single bound” as Superman does.Nevertheless, Superman is considered a fictional hero because he saves people from impending disaster. One wonders whether Superman would be so quick to rescue those in need if he were a mere human.
Heroes are not heroes just because they are elected president, although some presidents may be heroes. George Washington could be considered a hero because he led an inexperienced army against the mighty military of England. His actions have helped secure a better future for us all.
People who speak well in public are not necessarily heroes, either – although some public speakers have become heroes. You must ask yourself if you think George Bush isa hero because he made a great State of the Union Speech, or is he a hero because he freed the Iraqi people?
The local fireman who goes to work every day to put out fires is not a hero simply because he is a fireman. He is a hero because he risks his lifeto save those who put themselves in danger’s way. And, those firemen who left their homes and traveled thousands of miles just to help the 9/11 victims in New York City are heroes, indeed.
Heroes are made through action, not position. Heroes are those special people who are worth emulating, because they take no thought to the safety of their own lives when they reach out to others. They are the soldiers who throw themselves on grenades to savesomeone’s life. They are the men who lead a nation to change at the cost of a bullet in thehead. They are the ones who throw your child out of the street when a car is sure to hit them. Heroes are heroic because they are willing to make sacrifices to ensure the safety of others, without hesitation, and without thought to their own well-being.
Heroism is the ultimate act of unselfishness.
Thursday, February 22, 2007
My Walk With God: January 1 - February 22, 2007
I stayed with a friend during the past few months, renting a bedroom for $35/week. I began attending church at the 1st Biker Church, a mission of the Missionary Baptist Church in Texarkana, Tx. I found a church home and eventually became a member there.
I worked my way up to Grill Operator at Waffle House, and continued to better myself in every way I could see possible. I even started selling Avon.
At Church, we started doing a study by Henry Blackaby called "Experiencing God". I was amazed. The study taught us how to know and do the will of God. As I continued for weeks in the study, I felt myself growing as a Christian, feeling my desires shift more from my self to my God. My depression left me, and I began to see where God was working around me, and I sought to adjust my life and join Him. Sometimes it wasn't possible -- or, rather, maybe I wasn't called for such tasks.
I began keeping a diary, in the form of a letter, which I decided at the appropriate time (when the notebook is filled up) to give it to my pastor. It documents my experiences as I learn to walk with God.
I've decided to include portions of my letter here, in hopes that it will bless whoever reads it.
My Letter to the Pastor and Members of the 1st Biker Church of Texarkana
Dear Brothers and Sisters in Christ:
I just thought I'd write to let you all know how I am doing in my walk with God, and how your misistry is leading me to grow in my Christian Faith.
After joining you in our study of Experiencing God, by Mr. Blackaby, I have opened myself to be led to learn and do the will of God. I've learned from past experience that Go prepares you for what is to come throughout your life. I have felt this even more so as I began this study.
I told you, for instance, that I was being led to sell Avon. Though I don't think, now, that it was making money that was the reason for it, it was the reason I agreed to do it. (oops). Maybe God knew that I wouldn't turn Him down, and that is why He put that particular task before me.
Now I see why.
As bad as my finances were, and still are, it gives me an opportunity to witness that I don't have at the Waffle House, where I work. It teaches me to trust God when things aren't looking to bright, to take risks, and to be determined and persistant, not to mention patient. I am investing more than I make, but the lessons learned is worth what I have invested, as it is with God's work.
As I pass out each brochure, it is comparable to the ministry of God. I may or may not get an order, but I plant the seed of interest. The seed can be passed along to others who may be interested. God is telling me that He is like my Avon Business. Each brochure represents a Bible teaching, or Word of God. As each disciple spreads the word that He exists, as each brochure is passed from hand to hand, the results are fruitful. Some produce $10 Sales, some $100, some $500, just as God's word results in saving souls. But it takes a Good Steward to do the work of spreading the brochures and the Word of God. And, God is explaining to me that He wants me to be a good steward of the faith.
And, God promises fruit to the obedient, so I can't give up.
In the meanwhile, I've also learned that God uses your circumstances to complete His will. I have been forced (as of February 8, 2007) to seek shelter at Randy Sam's Homeless Shelter for a time. I do not consider it a fall-back, or an obstacle. I, rather, consider it a blessing.
As I study my Bible at a table in the shelter, I have openned myself to allowing many people to walk by and initiate God-inspired Conversations that allow me to witness to them.
The Experiencing God study has prepared me in so many ways to deal with my current circumstances, and to seek more knowledge. I recently finished reading "The Great Controversy" by Ellen G. White, copyrighted in 1888. I was so engrossed in it that it took me a month and a half to read it all; and, it prepared me for the next book I chose to read, "The Purpose Driven Church", by Rick Warren.
"The Great Controversy is, basically, the history of the Protestant Church, and it expounds on the battle between God and Satan for the souls of the world. It touches on the past, then explains in Biblical depth, what the future holds. I was impressed by the forward by Ellen G. White, before I read the first chapter, because it fit in with what I had learned from the study.
As I began reading "The Purpose Driven Church", I was impressed with how much of what I've learned in "Experiencing God," and "The Great Controversy" were put into practice by Rick Warren. It's as if God led me to read all these books in the order I am reading them in.
I've learned to pray to God as each day starts for guidance to do His will. And, I pray that God uses my circumstances to Glorify His name, but I sure would like to be freed from some of it. (Sigh) Nevertheless, not my will, but thine, O Lord. Amen. Hey, If Jesus can pray that way, so can I...right?
I've invited about 10 people to come to church with me on Sunday morning. I don't know how I am going to get them all there if they accept, but where there is God's will...
Having just written that, I realize how much, I guess, I am acting on faith by doing that.
While I know I am where God purposes for me to be, I am, however, wondering what He is preparing for me in the future. I know this, too, is training. Knowing this, I am seeking every opportunity to obey when an opportunity presents itself.
I've chosen to write this letter because Paul wrote letters to the churches to encourage them in the midst of his afflictions. It is in the same spirit I am writing you now. I hope it will encourage you in your work, and the church, and I will cotinue to write as I continue to mature as a Christian.
I have a friend, at work, who has been doing a lot of self-help reading by authors such as Tony Robbins and other "Get Rich Quick" gurus that teach him to "look inside himself" for that "positive energy". Last night, as he sat there reading, I commented on what he was reading. When he explained, I said,"I'm reading a book by Rick Warren called 'The Purpose Driven Life'. He asked me what it was about. I explained, "It teaches me to look to God for my purpose in life, rather than at myself." He tried to argue that you couldn't do God's will without being right with God. I said, "You can't get right with God until you seek to know Him." I went to my car and retrieved the book, and showed him. He looked it over with interest.
Thank you all for your prayers concerning my two friends at work. I am delighted to see how God is responding in their lives because of it.
As I see God at work around me, I am encouraged to keep on the path I am walking with Him. Thank you so much for pointing me in the right direction!
I began reading "The Purpose Driven Life" on Tuesday. I was delighted that, in the beginning of the book, it stated all I had said to my friend at work. It brings me back to the verse about how God will bring His word into rememberance when it is needed most. And, it makes me feel so special, having been chosen by God for the task of helping lead others to true peace. "You can't get on right terms with yourself until you start with God," I had said.
In reading "The Purpose Driven Life", I came across a sentence that said, "Those who are trusted with something valuable must show that they are worthy of that trust." How valuable is a human soul? I felt honoured that God has given me the opportunities of late to Witness for Him.
Through a car ride, or by loaning a dollar here and there to help someone, or just plain companionship and fellowship, I feel closer to God in this homeless shelter than I did staying with my friends before.
There are days at the shelter that are more lonely and sad than others. Valentines Day was one of them. this day of love seems so far away from me that it hits my spirit like a ton of bricks, and all I can do is pray for the strength to get me through it. It is probably more self-pity than anything, so I try hard not to let it overtake me. I try to keep my focus on being in the will of God, because I know God will see me through -- as He always does. And, when you have God as your sweetheart, who else do you need.
The shelter has become a haven for me to become closer to God in so many ways. As I have been lacking in companionship, God is providing on a daily basis. As I have lacked in knowledge, god has provided time for me to study. I don't hunger or thirst. I am seeing stumbling blocks I didn't understand before now. I am witnessing, ministering to others, and building friendships that I hope with last.
God works in mysterious ways. He trains us for bigger assignments. His patience is merciful. And, my secrets are safe with him. I know of no better way to praise Him, than by telling others what I am finding out about Him on a daily basis.
I am in love with Him, and He is the only love I have that I am willing to share intimately with others.
Sunday I wasn't sure if I was going to make it to Church. But God (and it really WAS God!) saw to it that my car was fixed just in time. All I can say is that when you let go -- really let go-- and let God, God does His job! I prayed that morning that God would use my problem to bless someone. I told God, "Only you know why my alternator belt broke. You know I can't afford for anything to go wrong. But all I can do is trust you, Lord. You know what you are doing." He then sent an angel to me, who led me to a benevolent gentleman, who fixed the problem...and even refused payment.
There are times in my life when I feel God isn't there, but I know he is. During those times when I feel God is far away, I've learned to keep Him near in my heart, and to continue to work toward God as if He were making His presence known.
On Tuesday, February 20th, there was a Lutheran Ministry there at the shelter. I really enjoyed their services. Then, a lady approached me and said, "God has impressed it upon my hear to tell you that He has not thrown you to the wolves. He loves you. He is watching you. And He is here. He loves you."
I felt the tears come to my eyes, but I nodded and smiled and said, "I know."
One shelter resident, Justin, comes to talk to me now and then. He is taking care of an older man who travels with him from city to city, as he does odd jobs and ministers to those less fortunate by discussing Biblical truths. I let him have my book, "The Great Controversy", to take with him when he leaves. He will be one I miss.
I have had the opportunity to help several of the women at the shelter by sending them to Waffle House to apply for a job. Tonight, a third girl came to me for help. CPS has her child placed in a foster home, and she is trying to get on her feet so she can have him back. I sent her with a note to the hiring manager, who is working with me to help the needy.
I am now reading a book by Rod Dreher called "Crunchy Cons". As a Christian Activist, it is my opinion that politics and religion go hand in hand, no matter how hard separatists work to make people believe otherwise. There is a lot that politics can teach a Christian, especially if he is conservative in nature. Sometimes I think God is a conservative activist, but after reading "Crunchy Cons", I see where God has His hand in Liberal activism, as well. At any rate, I have come to understand that having an open mind does not mean that you are to be "broad-minded". (Matthew 7:13-14)
While I was at work Sunday night, I was told by a new girl that she was considering home-schooling as an option. I then had the opportunity to preach the bonding value of home education, and how it affected me and my children. I told her how, even today, we all are thankful for the experience, and my children respect me more for my efforts.
One employee at Waffle House began reprimanding me for talking so down on public education, saying I had no right to diss what many have found fulfilling. He touted social negligence and then tried to use God to defend his points, saying God wants children to have a good education. I argued that God gave the job of educating children to the parents, not the government, and that fellowship (i.e. socialization) should be done with people who are like-minded. (Deuteronomy 11:19)
She considered both of our viewpoints, but it is obvious she is a Christian, and I was able to give her helpful information about where to look for curriculum and further information. I think my witness was better.
I understand that not everyone is called to Homeschool. But, I believe God especially blesses those that do it.
There are a group of men at the shelter that I call "Justin's Group" because they sit around all day (when they aren't working) discussing the Bible. They talk about other things as well, but somehow, even in those discussions, the Bible is brought out and scripture is referred to. I have noticed how others in the shelter have paid attention to that table of men, and how it is encouraging some unlikely people to pick up the Bible and start reading it. I really am going to miss Justin when he leaves.
I worked my way up to Grill Operator at Waffle House, and continued to better myself in every way I could see possible. I even started selling Avon.
At Church, we started doing a study by Henry Blackaby called "Experiencing God". I was amazed. The study taught us how to know and do the will of God. As I continued for weeks in the study, I felt myself growing as a Christian, feeling my desires shift more from my self to my God. My depression left me, and I began to see where God was working around me, and I sought to adjust my life and join Him. Sometimes it wasn't possible -- or, rather, maybe I wasn't called for such tasks.
I began keeping a diary, in the form of a letter, which I decided at the appropriate time (when the notebook is filled up) to give it to my pastor. It documents my experiences as I learn to walk with God.
I've decided to include portions of my letter here, in hopes that it will bless whoever reads it.
My Letter to the Pastor and Members of the 1st Biker Church of Texarkana
Dear Brothers and Sisters in Christ:
I just thought I'd write to let you all know how I am doing in my walk with God, and how your misistry is leading me to grow in my Christian Faith.
After joining you in our study of Experiencing God, by Mr. Blackaby, I have opened myself to be led to learn and do the will of God. I've learned from past experience that Go prepares you for what is to come throughout your life. I have felt this even more so as I began this study.
I told you, for instance, that I was being led to sell Avon. Though I don't think, now, that it was making money that was the reason for it, it was the reason I agreed to do it. (oops). Maybe God knew that I wouldn't turn Him down, and that is why He put that particular task before me.
Now I see why.
As bad as my finances were, and still are, it gives me an opportunity to witness that I don't have at the Waffle House, where I work. It teaches me to trust God when things aren't looking to bright, to take risks, and to be determined and persistant, not to mention patient. I am investing more than I make, but the lessons learned is worth what I have invested, as it is with God's work.
As I pass out each brochure, it is comparable to the ministry of God. I may or may not get an order, but I plant the seed of interest. The seed can be passed along to others who may be interested. God is telling me that He is like my Avon Business. Each brochure represents a Bible teaching, or Word of God. As each disciple spreads the word that He exists, as each brochure is passed from hand to hand, the results are fruitful. Some produce $10 Sales, some $100, some $500, just as God's word results in saving souls. But it takes a Good Steward to do the work of spreading the brochures and the Word of God. And, God is explaining to me that He wants me to be a good steward of the faith.
And, God promises fruit to the obedient, so I can't give up.
In the meanwhile, I've also learned that God uses your circumstances to complete His will. I have been forced (as of February 8, 2007) to seek shelter at Randy Sam's Homeless Shelter for a time. I do not consider it a fall-back, or an obstacle. I, rather, consider it a blessing.
As I study my Bible at a table in the shelter, I have openned myself to allowing many people to walk by and initiate God-inspired Conversations that allow me to witness to them.
The Experiencing God study has prepared me in so many ways to deal with my current circumstances, and to seek more knowledge. I recently finished reading "The Great Controversy" by Ellen G. White, copyrighted in 1888. I was so engrossed in it that it took me a month and a half to read it all; and, it prepared me for the next book I chose to read, "The Purpose Driven Church", by Rick Warren.
"The Great Controversy is, basically, the history of the Protestant Church, and it expounds on the battle between God and Satan for the souls of the world. It touches on the past, then explains in Biblical depth, what the future holds. I was impressed by the forward by Ellen G. White, before I read the first chapter, because it fit in with what I had learned from the study.
As I began reading "The Purpose Driven Church", I was impressed with how much of what I've learned in "Experiencing God," and "The Great Controversy" were put into practice by Rick Warren. It's as if God led me to read all these books in the order I am reading them in.
I've learned to pray to God as each day starts for guidance to do His will. And, I pray that God uses my circumstances to Glorify His name, but I sure would like to be freed from some of it. (Sigh) Nevertheless, not my will, but thine, O Lord. Amen. Hey, If Jesus can pray that way, so can I...right?
I've invited about 10 people to come to church with me on Sunday morning. I don't know how I am going to get them all there if they accept, but where there is God's will...
Having just written that, I realize how much, I guess, I am acting on faith by doing that.
While I know I am where God purposes for me to be, I am, however, wondering what He is preparing for me in the future. I know this, too, is training. Knowing this, I am seeking every opportunity to obey when an opportunity presents itself.
I've chosen to write this letter because Paul wrote letters to the churches to encourage them in the midst of his afflictions. It is in the same spirit I am writing you now. I hope it will encourage you in your work, and the church, and I will cotinue to write as I continue to mature as a Christian.
I have a friend, at work, who has been doing a lot of self-help reading by authors such as Tony Robbins and other "Get Rich Quick" gurus that teach him to "look inside himself" for that "positive energy". Last night, as he sat there reading, I commented on what he was reading. When he explained, I said,"I'm reading a book by Rick Warren called 'The Purpose Driven Life'. He asked me what it was about. I explained, "It teaches me to look to God for my purpose in life, rather than at myself." He tried to argue that you couldn't do God's will without being right with God. I said, "You can't get right with God until you seek to know Him." I went to my car and retrieved the book, and showed him. He looked it over with interest.
Thank you all for your prayers concerning my two friends at work. I am delighted to see how God is responding in their lives because of it.
As I see God at work around me, I am encouraged to keep on the path I am walking with Him. Thank you so much for pointing me in the right direction!
I began reading "The Purpose Driven Life" on Tuesday. I was delighted that, in the beginning of the book, it stated all I had said to my friend at work. It brings me back to the verse about how God will bring His word into rememberance when it is needed most. And, it makes me feel so special, having been chosen by God for the task of helping lead others to true peace. "You can't get on right terms with yourself until you start with God," I had said.
In reading "The Purpose Driven Life", I came across a sentence that said, "Those who are trusted with something valuable must show that they are worthy of that trust." How valuable is a human soul? I felt honoured that God has given me the opportunities of late to Witness for Him.
Through a car ride, or by loaning a dollar here and there to help someone, or just plain companionship and fellowship, I feel closer to God in this homeless shelter than I did staying with my friends before.
There are days at the shelter that are more lonely and sad than others. Valentines Day was one of them. this day of love seems so far away from me that it hits my spirit like a ton of bricks, and all I can do is pray for the strength to get me through it. It is probably more self-pity than anything, so I try hard not to let it overtake me. I try to keep my focus on being in the will of God, because I know God will see me through -- as He always does. And, when you have God as your sweetheart, who else do you need.
The shelter has become a haven for me to become closer to God in so many ways. As I have been lacking in companionship, God is providing on a daily basis. As I have lacked in knowledge, god has provided time for me to study. I don't hunger or thirst. I am seeing stumbling blocks I didn't understand before now. I am witnessing, ministering to others, and building friendships that I hope with last.
God works in mysterious ways. He trains us for bigger assignments. His patience is merciful. And, my secrets are safe with him. I know of no better way to praise Him, than by telling others what I am finding out about Him on a daily basis.
I am in love with Him, and He is the only love I have that I am willing to share intimately with others.
Sunday I wasn't sure if I was going to make it to Church. But God (and it really WAS God!) saw to it that my car was fixed just in time. All I can say is that when you let go -- really let go-- and let God, God does His job! I prayed that morning that God would use my problem to bless someone. I told God, "Only you know why my alternator belt broke. You know I can't afford for anything to go wrong. But all I can do is trust you, Lord. You know what you are doing." He then sent an angel to me, who led me to a benevolent gentleman, who fixed the problem...and even refused payment.
There are times in my life when I feel God isn't there, but I know he is. During those times when I feel God is far away, I've learned to keep Him near in my heart, and to continue to work toward God as if He were making His presence known.
On Tuesday, February 20th, there was a Lutheran Ministry there at the shelter. I really enjoyed their services. Then, a lady approached me and said, "God has impressed it upon my hear to tell you that He has not thrown you to the wolves. He loves you. He is watching you. And He is here. He loves you."
I felt the tears come to my eyes, but I nodded and smiled and said, "I know."
One shelter resident, Justin, comes to talk to me now and then. He is taking care of an older man who travels with him from city to city, as he does odd jobs and ministers to those less fortunate by discussing Biblical truths. I let him have my book, "The Great Controversy", to take with him when he leaves. He will be one I miss.
I have had the opportunity to help several of the women at the shelter by sending them to Waffle House to apply for a job. Tonight, a third girl came to me for help. CPS has her child placed in a foster home, and she is trying to get on her feet so she can have him back. I sent her with a note to the hiring manager, who is working with me to help the needy.
I am now reading a book by Rod Dreher called "Crunchy Cons". As a Christian Activist, it is my opinion that politics and religion go hand in hand, no matter how hard separatists work to make people believe otherwise. There is a lot that politics can teach a Christian, especially if he is conservative in nature. Sometimes I think God is a conservative activist, but after reading "Crunchy Cons", I see where God has His hand in Liberal activism, as well. At any rate, I have come to understand that having an open mind does not mean that you are to be "broad-minded". (Matthew 7:13-14)
While I was at work Sunday night, I was told by a new girl that she was considering home-schooling as an option. I then had the opportunity to preach the bonding value of home education, and how it affected me and my children. I told her how, even today, we all are thankful for the experience, and my children respect me more for my efforts.
One employee at Waffle House began reprimanding me for talking so down on public education, saying I had no right to diss what many have found fulfilling. He touted social negligence and then tried to use God to defend his points, saying God wants children to have a good education. I argued that God gave the job of educating children to the parents, not the government, and that fellowship (i.e. socialization) should be done with people who are like-minded. (Deuteronomy 11:19)
She considered both of our viewpoints, but it is obvious she is a Christian, and I was able to give her helpful information about where to look for curriculum and further information. I think my witness was better.
I understand that not everyone is called to Homeschool. But, I believe God especially blesses those that do it.
There are a group of men at the shelter that I call "Justin's Group" because they sit around all day (when they aren't working) discussing the Bible. They talk about other things as well, but somehow, even in those discussions, the Bible is brought out and scripture is referred to. I have noticed how others in the shelter have paid attention to that table of men, and how it is encouraging some unlikely people to pick up the Bible and start reading it. I really am going to miss Justin when he leaves.
Friday, November 03, 2006
Moving Around
I've been moving a lot lately. For $150.00/month, its hard to find a comfortable place to reside. But, that's all I can afford right now, until I get my car paid for.
As of right now, I owe $3297 in back taxes for a bar I shut down (that I still say I didn't even sell that much beer in!). Then I owe $133 for a water bill from that same bar. I owe $260/month for the car, then $255/month for child support, as well as $60/month for non-criminal probation fees until I get my child support caught up. And my car insurance is $40/month.
Other than that, I pay for my gas to get back and forth to work, my cigarettes, and my food (when I don't eat at Waffle House, where I work), and my basic personal hygiene necessities. I am not that far behind on most of my stuff, and I am catching up on all of it slowly. But, it's wearing me out to get there.
As of right now, I owe $3297 in back taxes for a bar I shut down (that I still say I didn't even sell that much beer in!). Then I owe $133 for a water bill from that same bar. I owe $260/month for the car, then $255/month for child support, as well as $60/month for non-criminal probation fees until I get my child support caught up. And my car insurance is $40/month.
Other than that, I pay for my gas to get back and forth to work, my cigarettes, and my food (when I don't eat at Waffle House, where I work), and my basic personal hygiene necessities. I am not that far behind on most of my stuff, and I am catching up on all of it slowly. But, it's wearing me out to get there.
Sunday, October 29, 2006
What I like...
My favorite TV Show used to be Stargate SG-1. But lately I haven't had a TV with cable. My favorite movies are Shawshank Redemption, Independence Day, Armageddon, Forest Gump and Postman.
I like Country Music. I can tolerate Hard or Soft Rock, but if I had to choose, I'd listen to Classic Rock. But, I was raised on Country, and I know more about it. I hate Rap or Punk. I like blues. I don't like jazz.
I write poetry. I have two notebooks full of poems from 12 years old on up. I had one published in a book called "Field of Dreams".
My ultimate dream is to one day write a book.
I like Country Music. I can tolerate Hard or Soft Rock, but if I had to choose, I'd listen to Classic Rock. But, I was raised on Country, and I know more about it. I hate Rap or Punk. I like blues. I don't like jazz.
I write poetry. I have two notebooks full of poems from 12 years old on up. I had one published in a book called "Field of Dreams".
My ultimate dream is to one day write a book.
Tuesday, October 24, 2006
Childish Secrets
Is it just me, or is it childish for someone to ask you to keep something secret that really isn't worth keeping a secret? For example, a good friend of mine works out of town. He came into town and I talked to him on the phone. He said he didn't want anyone to know he was in town.
Now, he has his reasons. For instance: owing people money, having to hide from the law, not wanting to talk to certain people. I guess I'm just too up front. I try to never owe anyone, so I don't have to hide from my debtors, I don't do anything wrong, and when I do I own up to it. And if there is someone I really don't want to talk to, I'll tell them up front.
Kind of makes me think he's trying to deceive me, too.
Now, he has his reasons. For instance: owing people money, having to hide from the law, not wanting to talk to certain people. I guess I'm just too up front. I try to never owe anyone, so I don't have to hide from my debtors, I don't do anything wrong, and when I do I own up to it. And if there is someone I really don't want to talk to, I'll tell them up front.
Kind of makes me think he's trying to deceive me, too.
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
I'm Called
There are times in my life when I have felt that I am being led. There are times when I feel so compelled to take action, I can't help but take action.
For instance: I ran a bar for about seven months. I loved the people, the business, and the work involved. But, for some reason, the business kept going downhill, no matter how hard I worked or how much I tried. I closed down the business on the last day of October, knowing I would have to find a job to make ends meet when I did so. A little voice in the back of my mind said, "Go to the Waffle House." I really didn't want to.
I put in my application at several places, talking to managers, but not getting anywhere for 2 days. On November 2, I broke down and followed my "gut" and went. I asked to speak to the manager on duty, and when she came to me, I stuck out my hand to shake hers and said, "My name is Shonda Ponder. I owned the Nip & Sip Bar and Lounge up until 2 days ago. I just closed it down due to lack of business. I owe child support, and I'm so far behind on bills I can't see straight. I need a job. Can you help me?"
She handed me an application, sent me to speak with the district supervisor, and I started work at the Waffle House on November 3rd, 2005.
I have been there nearly a year now. I have worked every shift, and I have never missed a day of work. Up until 2 days ago, I haven't even been late except for once, due to having to go to court, so I had a valid excuse. The day before yesterday, I overslept after working a 15 hour day the night before...and I have so many hours this week that it didn't really matter. I was still sent home early to keep me from having overtime this week, that day. Today, I was asked to clock out early due to my hours being too close to max.
Last week I got another one of those "gut feelings". So, this time, I didn't fight it. I applied for a management position at Waffle House. I've spent the last week volunteering my server time to training servers and helping on the grill. I think its all going to happen soon. I'm looking forward to advancing my experience with Waffle House.
I've had this gut feeling before. It has always sent me where I was needed most, whether I liked it, or not. The last time I had this feeling, I attended Texas Best Seminars, which later grew to be America's Media Alliance, of which I became the first president.
I've homeschooled my children on a "gut instinct". It worked for them. Both of them are much better off today than they were or would have been, had they remained in pubic school at the time.
I left Texarkana before that on that sort of feeling; and, it was that feeling that brought me back home. I've learned that God has a strong way of communicating with me, and that it is always best to follow whereever He leads me.
I've never been sorry.
For instance: I ran a bar for about seven months. I loved the people, the business, and the work involved. But, for some reason, the business kept going downhill, no matter how hard I worked or how much I tried. I closed down the business on the last day of October, knowing I would have to find a job to make ends meet when I did so. A little voice in the back of my mind said, "Go to the Waffle House." I really didn't want to.
I put in my application at several places, talking to managers, but not getting anywhere for 2 days. On November 2, I broke down and followed my "gut" and went. I asked to speak to the manager on duty, and when she came to me, I stuck out my hand to shake hers and said, "My name is Shonda Ponder. I owned the Nip & Sip Bar and Lounge up until 2 days ago. I just closed it down due to lack of business. I owe child support, and I'm so far behind on bills I can't see straight. I need a job. Can you help me?"
She handed me an application, sent me to speak with the district supervisor, and I started work at the Waffle House on November 3rd, 2005.
I have been there nearly a year now. I have worked every shift, and I have never missed a day of work. Up until 2 days ago, I haven't even been late except for once, due to having to go to court, so I had a valid excuse. The day before yesterday, I overslept after working a 15 hour day the night before...and I have so many hours this week that it didn't really matter. I was still sent home early to keep me from having overtime this week, that day. Today, I was asked to clock out early due to my hours being too close to max.
Last week I got another one of those "gut feelings". So, this time, I didn't fight it. I applied for a management position at Waffle House. I've spent the last week volunteering my server time to training servers and helping on the grill. I think its all going to happen soon. I'm looking forward to advancing my experience with Waffle House.
I've had this gut feeling before. It has always sent me where I was needed most, whether I liked it, or not. The last time I had this feeling, I attended Texas Best Seminars, which later grew to be America's Media Alliance, of which I became the first president.
I've homeschooled my children on a "gut instinct". It worked for them. Both of them are much better off today than they were or would have been, had they remained in pubic school at the time.
I left Texarkana before that on that sort of feeling; and, it was that feeling that brought me back home. I've learned that God has a strong way of communicating with me, and that it is always best to follow whereever He leads me.
I've never been sorry.
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
Truckstop Angel
Written Aug of 2003
Pat and I had been on the road all day. So, tired and hungry, at approximately 2:00 AM, we pulled into a Petro Truck Stop to rest for the night just outside of Wytheville, Virginia. Pat gave me a $20.00 bill, and I went into the restaurant to order our meals.
At a table, which seemed to be the only one occupied, a dark-haired, clean-cut man with olive-colored skin and a neatly trimmed beard and mustache sat. He was sketching a picture of a reggae artist photo, which was lying on the table before him, as he spoke to the waitress. I ordered my food, then commented on his talent.
The man smiled and asked me where I was headed to.
"California," I replied, "but we don't have much time to get there, so we may have to give up our load to a team." I explained that I was just along for the ride, thinking of trying to get hired by the company in the future, therefore Pat was a solo driver. Then he asked me where we were from.
"I'm originally from Texarkana, Texas. But, I've lived in Houston, Texas for the past four years," I answered, "That's where I met Pat. We've been together for three years now, and his company seems to think it would look better on my application if we were married -- but, I've already been married twice, and his mom had a really bad marriage before, so we're waiting."
The stranger smiled and congratulated me for the three years we had under our belts, then he asked, "Do you have children?"
"Yes," I smiled, "I have two."
"How old?"
"My oldest is seventeen, and my baby is twelve. They are with their dads."
The conversation then changed for a moment at he pointed at his sketch and said, "I travel and draw for people while they tell me their stories. I spent some time in San Antonio, Texas. Are you familiar?"
I told him I lived in Austin for four and a half years before I moved to Houston, and that I liked to write articles, poems and short stories. "I paint pictures with words, rather than brushes," I explained again commenting on his talent, and telling him I missed my computer.
"An artist uses his talents for therapeutic purposes, whether he paints with pictures or with words," he said. "Tell me about your sons."
I smiled as I thought for a moment how to begin. Then I began:
"My oldest son was born when I was seventeen. When he was about a year old, he started having seizures. The doctor didn't know why, but to be on the safe side, he ordered him to be put on Phenobarbitol. Epilepsy runs in my family, but my son had a low-grade fever for awhile, so it could have very well been caused by that.
"The doctor explained to me that if, within a year, he had no more seizures, we would take him off of it. Then he cautioned me that it had side effects. He explained that at the age of four or five, my child would be hyper, and that he may be a little slower than his classmates -- but, as he grew older, and on into adolescence, he would catch up. Bryant was normal." I stressed the word normal as I looked at the stranger.
The stranger nodded, raising his eyebrow to convey that he caught the meaning. I continued:
"As I said, I was young. Being a mother at that age was not easy. Neither was finding help. I gave him up to the only person who, I felt at the time, would help me, when he was two years old.
"When he turned four, just as the doctor warned, he bacame hyper. Without consulting me, my step-grandmother had him put on ritalin. He never should have been put on ritlin.
"When he turned eight, my step-grandmother gave him back to me. I had already had my younger son. I was married, and we were doing well. But, my older son was not right."
The stranger motioned for me to continue, noting my emphasis on the word "right".
"He had no conscience. He had no sense of right and wrong. In short, he was a monster. For two years, I tried. Finally, when it became evident that his actions were endangering the mental and physical health of my youngest son, I desperately sought anyone who would help me. I called CPS (Child Protection Services} for advice. I called my mother. I called his father's parents. Finally, after learning his dad was training in the field of child psychology, I called him. I begged him to take our son.
"Giving him up this time was like cutting off my arm to save my body. I felt I was doing the right thing. Now, after eight years of hard work and prayer, I can look at my son and see a normal teenage boy."
The stranger smiled, nodding in agreement.
"Oh, he got in trouble last year for having a pack of cigarettes, but if that is the worst he does, I'm happy."
"You did the right thing," the stranger said. "How about your younger son? Is his story as colorful?"
I smiled as I struggled to swallow the sudden lump that came into my throat. With tears in my eyes, I answered, "More so. My baby boy was...is the brightest beacon of light I have in my dark world."
"Tell me about him," he encouraged.
So, I began again:
"As I said, I had my oldest son when I was young. I missed out on a lot of his growing up. So, when my baby boy was born, I vowed that I wouldn't makethe same mistakes. I would see his first steps, teach him his first words, celebrate his potty training, all the privileges and rights a mother is supposed to enjoy. And, I wanted to do it right.
"I gave him the middle name of Seth, because -- just as Eve in the Bible named her son Seth 'because God gave me another son in the place of...' I felt I was being given a second chance.
"I thought, as I looked on those tiny hand and feet for the first time, about how I was raised. I wanted to protect my baby from a lot of what I didn't like about it. I told him, as he lay there in my arms, that he could be anything, and one day he was going to be great, that he was going to be special, and one day he would change the world. I told him that where ever he wanted to go, I'd help him get there.
"The reasons were many more than those, but I'd have to get off the story of my son if I told you. Suffice it to say that my mother never believed in me the way I would believe in my son.
"The first time he said, 'momma', I got down on my knees and thanked God. Then I told my son how amazing he was, how special he was, and how great he would one day be. I did this again when he took his first steps, and I cried with him the first time he fell down, as I helped him up. I repeated all this when he cut his first tooth, drew his first picture, and every single other new feat he would accomplish.
"By the time he was three, I had taught him the alphabet. When he was four, he knew how to count to a hundred, and how to add and subtract. We spent hours talking about the moral lessons of old movies, books I read to him, and current news of the day. His babysitter said that he was her little helper, and that he was well behaved.
"When he started kindergarten, I begged my husband to go with me because I knew I was not strong enough to let him go alone. After, once again, telling my son how proud I was of him, I left him in the care of his new teacher, then went home and cried like a baby.
"We talked about his day at school, what he learned, how he liked his teacher, what his favorite activities were. His teacher favored him, as he became her little helper
"I still read stories to him from the Bible, and from books I was reading, and we talked at length still, when I had the time.
"My baby boy never asked for anything. He knew when I got paid. He knew we didn't have much money to throw around. When I would tell him to pick out a cereal at the store, he chose by price. He ate carrots and celery sticks, rather than candy. So, when I told him he could name whatever he wanted for his birthday, he said he wanted to go to Chuck E. Cheese. I spent a whole paycheck to give him what he wanted, and I didn't complain to him about how much it cost me. When he, as was his habit by then, found out how much it would cost, he tried to change his mind.
"I wouldn't let him.
"I told him again how special he was, and that this time, he was worth it. He reluctantly agreed.
"When a substitute teacher at his school refused, one day, to let me take him home without a pink slip because she didn't know me, I decided to home-school him. How dare her to undermine my authority over my child! His regular teacher wanted to know if she had done anything to influence my decision to home-school him. I told her, truthfully, that she was a wonderful teacher, but that I wanted more influence in my child's life.
"As I began home-schooling him, I became aware of how good of a teacher my son was. I learned that it was not only what I said, but how I said it that could kill his self-confidence. I then taught him that there was no such thing as a stupid question, and if I didn't know the answer, we would find the answer together.
"I taught him to open doors for ladies, to pull back chairs, to respect his elders, and how -- sometimes -- God's laws and man's laws differ. I taught him of George Washington, Ben Franklin, Harriett Tubman, and Rosa Parks. He learned of Joseph, Walt Disney, and Alexander Graham Bell. He sat on the edge of his seat, wide-eyed and eager as I told him these tales. He was my life, my beacon of light in a dark world.
"I realized I had to set an example for him to follow after I was arrested in 1997. I then joined a local media association, of which I later became president. I visited Citizen's Communication at Travis County Commissioner's Court regularly, which my son watched on the local cable access channel at home as part of his history and civics lessons. One day, I stood up to defend home-schoolers and demand an apology from a commissioner who had publicly remarked that 'People who home-school are nothing more than trailer trash that don't even own their own property.' I demanded that she owed my home-schooled son, who was watching her, an apology, and I informed her that we owned property.
"When I returned home that day, my baby boy met me at the door. As I opened the car door, I noted the proud look on his face that said, 'That's MY Momma!' I wouldn't have traded that moment for the whole world. I hugged him and told him, through tears, again, how special he was.
"I bought some books from a Christian Book Distributor with which to school him. Then I opened up a Bob Can Run book and asked him to read it to me.
"'I can't,' he argued.
"'You can do anything you set your mind to do,' I told him, 'Just remember, with God, all things are possible.' Then I reminded him that he already knew the letter sounds. I challenged him to sound out the letters in the first sentence, not knowing if he would.
"He did as he was asked. When he realized he had read, 'Bob can run,' his eyes lit up as he voluntarily read the rest of the book to me, speeding up progress as he read. My husband was amazed. I then told my son, again, how special he was.
"After that, I needed only to place a book in front of him and tell him to read the directions. In three months, he had exhausted all of this first grade materials.
"When I told my mother what I was doing, once again she ridiculed me. She claimed she was 'concerned about his social skills'. I assurred her that I didn't have a problem keeping him away from drugs, teenage pregnancies, bullies, school shootings, or negative people. My son was proud of me; and, when I looked at him, I was proud of myself.
"As I taught American History to him, I became more involved in the political activities of the American Media Association. My husband and I began to fight over differing political viewpoints. I found myself more and more miserable as I worried about the kind of example this was setting for my son. So, when a political acquaintence asked me to move to Houston to help build up the organization there, I filed for a divorce.
"After explaining the situation to my son, my son agreed that moving to Houston might be a good idea. Life in Houston was a bad idea, however. The man I was living with had two daughters who were not brought up as well as I would have liked. His house was unkempt, and he refused to let me clean it. Soon, he let me know I needed to leave. So, I found myself homeless, looking for a job, and with a child to care for.
"I did the only thing I could do. I apologized to my son. I told him I had made a mistake, and that I was sorry he would have to suffer the consequences with me. I took him to stay with his real father, who had not seen him since he was a year old. Justin forgave me, assuring me that there was no way I could have known what would happen when we moved. He then told me that he was thankful to finally be able to meet his real dad. When my son was safe, 300 miles away, I searched for a job and an apartment of my own.
"I called him when I finally got settled a few weeks later. His dad wanted to know how I had accomplished so much with this child genious. 'He gripes about Clinton. He nearly brakes his legs to get to the door before a lady can open it. He says yes ma'am and no sir as if it were natural. He doesn't meddle with other people's stuff. He asks questions and reads the newspaper. Can I keep him?'
"'No,' I said, 'He is my reason for living. I want him back.'
"My new boss approved of my work habits, and encouraged me to bring my son to work with me. One day, as it stormed outside, Justin found favor in my Islamic boss' eyes by declaring, 'MOM! We should pray to God so he will protect us through this storm!"
"My boss said never had he seen so great of faith as my son had. His friends, who were visiting that day, concurred. My son showed his beacon of light, and I -- once again -- told him how special he was.
"I let him stay home while I worked, after I made sure he knew how to use the phone, lock the doors, and fix his own meals. Sometimes I would come home, and he would have built great, immaculate cities out of his Lego Blocks that even Job probably wouldn't have had the patience to build. Once, he was playing a game of Hearts on the computer that I didn't even know how to play, and he was winning. When I asked how he learned that game, concerned he'd let a stranger in the house, he showed me how to find the directions on the computer. I praised him, again.
"Once, I brought home a pizza and caught him watching Jerry Springer. He commented on the weird guests of the show, who were homosexual, prompting me to explain political correctness to him, and reminding him that God's laws were not man's laws. We talked about this at length, while he ate, then he thanked me, turned off the television, and went to bed.
"He never tired of asking me questions. 'When I learn to drive, how will I find my way everywhere. I get confused when we go to the store!' I gave him exercises to do to enhance his sense of direction. I taught him to read a map. 'What about cooking?' I showed him a recipe book, and explained what diced meant. Questions never stopped, and I never tired of answering them, or telling him how special he was.
"He learned, soon, that he didn't have to ask me questions anymore. All he needed was a dictionary, encyclopedia, or the internet to find the answers he was looking for. Oh, I still qot lots of questions, but mostly just to verify what he already knew.
"One night, I took him to work with me. As he sat on the sidewalk, in front of the store, talking to a co-worker, a robber came in and forced one of my managers and me to empty our pockets and lie on the floor. At gunpoint, we did as we were told. His accompliss had a gun to my boss' head, demanding he open the safe. I noted, while lying there that they hadn't locked the doors, and I prayed to God to protect my baby boy. 'Please, O Lord, don't let him come in this store right now!'
"My son later explained that he had started to open the door to come in, saw the robber with the gun to my boss' head, thought better of it and informed the co-worker to look, who then ran to call the police. 'It was like watching a movie. I could see everything through the glass windows!'
"Luckily, no one got hurt. Later that night, I took my son home and we had a long discussion about what he was to do if anything bad ever happened to me, his mother. At seven-years-old, he took this talk very seriously, at that point. I explained long distance phone calls, explaining where I kept the numbers if he couldn't memorize them. He hung on every word, and then we prayed to God to thank Him for His protection. Then, my son hugged me and went to bed.
"Soon, my boss sold his business. I was forced to look for another job, which I found at a local chicken franchise. The management there was indifferent to the fact that I was a mother, so I began working as a co-editor of a conservative internet newspaper, while I built my own web site to help make ends meet. I resigned as president of the AMA, which fell apart after that. I barely made enough money to cover rent, phone and food. Then, at Christmas, 1999, my car was reposessed just as I was starting my own business running errands for the elderly. I had to give that up, and began learning about commission-based advertising on the internet. After all, that was how my older son's father was making a living.
"My oldest son lived about a block away from me at that time, so I was able to keep in touch with him easily, and spend time with both my sons.
"One day in April of 2000, while I was at work, the police came and kidnapped my baby boy as he was sleeping. As I entered the gates of the apartment complex, I knew my son wasn't at home. I fearfully ran up the stares to my apartment and began searching the closets looking for him; then, I went knocking on doors. Finally, I forced myself to calm down and take a deep breath. I found a small, handwritten note on a memo pad sheet on the floor, telling me who had my son, and giving me a number to call.
"I called the Houston Juvenile Delinquent Center and demanded that they tell me where my son was and what right they had to take him! I told them under no uncertain terms, 'I want him back NOW!'
"When I was finally able to catch a cab, using my last ten dollars on my card, it was 10:00 PM when I arrived at the location they held my son. The first thing the woman asked me was "How well do you get along with your mother."
"I told her my mother was a control freak, and as long as she stays in Texarkana, and lets me live my own life in Houston, we got along great. A few moments later, a juvenile counselor came to take me to a private room for questioning.
"He informed me that on the ride over, the cops kept trying to tell my baby boy that he wasn't in trouble. My son just rolled his eyes and said, 'Oh yeah? Wait until my mom finds out I didn't lock the door to keep you out!' I smiled.
"Then he told me how they put him in a room with other kids as soon as he got there. Every corner of the room had different treats for kids. One had fruits and veggies; one had crackers and bread; one had candy; and one had drinks. He said my son went straight for the veggies, noting that that was odd for a child his age. I assured him it was not odd, and that my son had not been raised on candy. Then began the questions:
"'Where does he go to school?'
"'I home-school'
"'Has he been tested?'
"'The state of Texas doesn't require me to, but he knows history, he reads at a high school level. He does simple algebra. He can recite the scientific elements. He's only seven. If you want me to, I can.
"'What do you do in your spare time?'
"'I co-edit an on-line newspaper'
"'Do you attend parties, go to bars, etc.'
"'No, I don't drink. I don't smoke pot. I do smoke cigarettes. I drink tea.'
"'There wasn't much food in the house.'
"'I bring food home from work every night. We eat chicken, corn on the cobb, beans and rice, french fries, and fried okra.'
"'We noticed chicken bones on a plate on the floor.'
"I need to clean my apartment. I do that once a week on my days off.'
"'I was just verifying what you said. Frankly, we saw no mold or bugs, so it's obvious you don't let it get to bad. You said you co-edit a newspaper. Are you media?'
"I guess you could say that. I research news for writers. I just resigned my post with the American Media Association.'
"'Excuse me.'
"He left the room, then came back and said,
"'My supervisor is pressuring me to give your son back to you.' He took me out of the room and I met my baby boy in the lobby. All I could do was stare at him. I told him I was so worried, scared he was gone for good. He apologized for not locking the door, and I let him know that was the least of my concerns at that moment.
"The counselor informed me that it was against the law, in Texas, for children to be left unattended during the day if they were under nine-years-old. If they were over seven-years-old, they could be left alone after 6:00 PM. I asked him how he could expect me to work, then, seeing I was already struggling to just pay the bills. I told him I had a neighbor who would help me.
"When we got home, I called my mother. I asked her to let me borrow money for next month's rent, while I searched for a graveyard job. My mother said no, but I could come live with her and she would send me to college. I asked her if I could have my computer, so I could continue what I was doing on the internet. She said, 'No.' I asked her about home-schooling my son. She said, 'No.' So I said,
"'In other words, I have to live under your control, like a 32-year-old child, and not be able to do anything I want to do.'
"She said, 'Yes'. I said, 'No'.
"I sat my son down and told him what had transpired between my mother and me. I told him I was stuck between a rock and a hard place and I didn't know what to do. He asked me, 'What are our options?'
"'I can do what she wants and you will be physically cared for, but I won't be able to help you become all you want to be because she won't let me; or, I can call your dad; or, the state will take you. I don't know what to do. I don't have a job, now. We're rationing food, already. I have to do something. He offered to go to his dad's. So, I called his father, and his father agreed to come get him.
"The next day, a CPS agent came to inform me that I must be lying to her. It seemed that my neighbor said she had not seen my son. I took her into his room, as he napped in his shorts, uncovered him and said, 'There he is.'
"Then she started asking me questions about work, etc. I then told her, 'It doesn't matter what I tell you at this point, because tomorrow, he will be with his father in Nocona, Texas.'
"'Can you give me some way to verify this?' she asked.
"I gave her his paternal grandmother's telephone number, and informed her that his father was already on his way.
"That night, as his dad carried all his bags out, I knelt down to look my son in the eye. I told him, again, how special he was to me. I hugged him hard, and held back the tears as I begged his forgiveness. I told him again that one day he would be great, and that he would change the world.
"'I want you to dream dreams. I want you to have opportunities that I, or your dad, never had. See things we can only imagine. Do things we can only dream of. You'll be going to public school, now, so remember what all I taught you. Don't be afraid to ask questions. And, son, never, never let anyone tell you it can never be done. You can do anything you set your mind to do. With God, all things are possible.'
"Letting him go, that day, was like cutting off my body to save my arm. It was the hardest thing I ever did in my life, and I felt as if I had failed him, somehow. I then charged his father to not let my mother have access to him. I was afraid she'd find a way to put out his light. He understood, knowing my mother, and agreed."
The artist stranger was frowning when I looked at him again. He then asked, "How is your son, now?"
I smiled through teary eyes and said, "He's doing well. He was enrolled during test weeks, the last two weeks of second grade in Nocona Elementary School. After school let out, he received a letter from the NEA (National Education Association) with a plaque for scoring in the top 5% of the nation on his test scores. Since then, he's won 3rd place in Spelling UIL State Competitions in 3rd grade, and 2nd in 4th grade. As his 5th grade school year ended, he received a President's award for scoring in Texas' top 5% in his multi-level achievement testing. His father says he scored at high school and college levels in everything.
"I called him from Michigan last month to wish him a happy birthday. He asked me, 'Mom, you said where ever I wanted to go, you'll help me get there, right?'
"'Yes!' I answered.
"'Mom, I want to be a rocket scientist. I want to go to NASA. I want to go to the moon!'
"I got on the internet and sent him as many books on NASA and space that I could afford."
The waitress brought my food. I looked up, and noticed ten other customers sitting at the bar with coffee in front of them, staring at me. I paid my ticket, then picked up my food.
The Bible says that we should always be kind to strangers, because they could be Angels in disguise. I couldn't help but think of this when the stranger handed me a pewter-cross necklace, laden with turquoise. He said, "Your children have been given a great blessing. Your children are great, regardless of what may become of them, because they have a great mother. You did well."
I fought back the tears as I clenched the cross in my hands, thanking him and excusing myself by saying I needed to get the food back to the truck while it was hot.
As I walked back to the truck, noting the moon's reflection in every truck windshield on my way, I wondered:
If I had not done what I did, and how I did it, would my older son be entertaining the idea of helping problem children and reaching for lost souls? Would my baby boy, my shining beacon of light in a dark world, be reaching for the moon?
I thanked God for giving me the greatest gift of all:
Motherhood.
Pat and I had been on the road all day. So, tired and hungry, at approximately 2:00 AM, we pulled into a Petro Truck Stop to rest for the night just outside of Wytheville, Virginia. Pat gave me a $20.00 bill, and I went into the restaurant to order our meals.
At a table, which seemed to be the only one occupied, a dark-haired, clean-cut man with olive-colored skin and a neatly trimmed beard and mustache sat. He was sketching a picture of a reggae artist photo, which was lying on the table before him, as he spoke to the waitress. I ordered my food, then commented on his talent.
The man smiled and asked me where I was headed to.
"California," I replied, "but we don't have much time to get there, so we may have to give up our load to a team." I explained that I was just along for the ride, thinking of trying to get hired by the company in the future, therefore Pat was a solo driver. Then he asked me where we were from.
"I'm originally from Texarkana, Texas. But, I've lived in Houston, Texas for the past four years," I answered, "That's where I met Pat. We've been together for three years now, and his company seems to think it would look better on my application if we were married -- but, I've already been married twice, and his mom had a really bad marriage before, so we're waiting."
The stranger smiled and congratulated me for the three years we had under our belts, then he asked, "Do you have children?"
"Yes," I smiled, "I have two."
"How old?"
"My oldest is seventeen, and my baby is twelve. They are with their dads."
The conversation then changed for a moment at he pointed at his sketch and said, "I travel and draw for people while they tell me their stories. I spent some time in San Antonio, Texas. Are you familiar?"
I told him I lived in Austin for four and a half years before I moved to Houston, and that I liked to write articles, poems and short stories. "I paint pictures with words, rather than brushes," I explained again commenting on his talent, and telling him I missed my computer.
"An artist uses his talents for therapeutic purposes, whether he paints with pictures or with words," he said. "Tell me about your sons."
I smiled as I thought for a moment how to begin. Then I began:
"My oldest son was born when I was seventeen. When he was about a year old, he started having seizures. The doctor didn't know why, but to be on the safe side, he ordered him to be put on Phenobarbitol. Epilepsy runs in my family, but my son had a low-grade fever for awhile, so it could have very well been caused by that.
"The doctor explained to me that if, within a year, he had no more seizures, we would take him off of it. Then he cautioned me that it had side effects. He explained that at the age of four or five, my child would be hyper, and that he may be a little slower than his classmates -- but, as he grew older, and on into adolescence, he would catch up. Bryant was normal." I stressed the word normal as I looked at the stranger.
The stranger nodded, raising his eyebrow to convey that he caught the meaning. I continued:
"As I said, I was young. Being a mother at that age was not easy. Neither was finding help. I gave him up to the only person who, I felt at the time, would help me, when he was two years old.
"When he turned four, just as the doctor warned, he bacame hyper. Without consulting me, my step-grandmother had him put on ritalin. He never should have been put on ritlin.
"When he turned eight, my step-grandmother gave him back to me. I had already had my younger son. I was married, and we were doing well. But, my older son was not right."
The stranger motioned for me to continue, noting my emphasis on the word "right".
"He had no conscience. He had no sense of right and wrong. In short, he was a monster. For two years, I tried. Finally, when it became evident that his actions were endangering the mental and physical health of my youngest son, I desperately sought anyone who would help me. I called CPS (Child Protection Services} for advice. I called my mother. I called his father's parents. Finally, after learning his dad was training in the field of child psychology, I called him. I begged him to take our son.
"Giving him up this time was like cutting off my arm to save my body. I felt I was doing the right thing. Now, after eight years of hard work and prayer, I can look at my son and see a normal teenage boy."
The stranger smiled, nodding in agreement.
"Oh, he got in trouble last year for having a pack of cigarettes, but if that is the worst he does, I'm happy."
"You did the right thing," the stranger said. "How about your younger son? Is his story as colorful?"
I smiled as I struggled to swallow the sudden lump that came into my throat. With tears in my eyes, I answered, "More so. My baby boy was...is the brightest beacon of light I have in my dark world."
"Tell me about him," he encouraged.
So, I began again:
"As I said, I had my oldest son when I was young. I missed out on a lot of his growing up. So, when my baby boy was born, I vowed that I wouldn't makethe same mistakes. I would see his first steps, teach him his first words, celebrate his potty training, all the privileges and rights a mother is supposed to enjoy. And, I wanted to do it right.
"I gave him the middle name of Seth, because -- just as Eve in the Bible named her son Seth 'because God gave me another son in the place of...' I felt I was being given a second chance.
"I thought, as I looked on those tiny hand and feet for the first time, about how I was raised. I wanted to protect my baby from a lot of what I didn't like about it. I told him, as he lay there in my arms, that he could be anything, and one day he was going to be great, that he was going to be special, and one day he would change the world. I told him that where ever he wanted to go, I'd help him get there.
"The reasons were many more than those, but I'd have to get off the story of my son if I told you. Suffice it to say that my mother never believed in me the way I would believe in my son.
"The first time he said, 'momma', I got down on my knees and thanked God. Then I told my son how amazing he was, how special he was, and how great he would one day be. I did this again when he took his first steps, and I cried with him the first time he fell down, as I helped him up. I repeated all this when he cut his first tooth, drew his first picture, and every single other new feat he would accomplish.
"By the time he was three, I had taught him the alphabet. When he was four, he knew how to count to a hundred, and how to add and subtract. We spent hours talking about the moral lessons of old movies, books I read to him, and current news of the day. His babysitter said that he was her little helper, and that he was well behaved.
"When he started kindergarten, I begged my husband to go with me because I knew I was not strong enough to let him go alone. After, once again, telling my son how proud I was of him, I left him in the care of his new teacher, then went home and cried like a baby.
"We talked about his day at school, what he learned, how he liked his teacher, what his favorite activities were. His teacher favored him, as he became her little helper
"I still read stories to him from the Bible, and from books I was reading, and we talked at length still, when I had the time.
"My baby boy never asked for anything. He knew when I got paid. He knew we didn't have much money to throw around. When I would tell him to pick out a cereal at the store, he chose by price. He ate carrots and celery sticks, rather than candy. So, when I told him he could name whatever he wanted for his birthday, he said he wanted to go to Chuck E. Cheese. I spent a whole paycheck to give him what he wanted, and I didn't complain to him about how much it cost me. When he, as was his habit by then, found out how much it would cost, he tried to change his mind.
"I wouldn't let him.
"I told him again how special he was, and that this time, he was worth it. He reluctantly agreed.
"When a substitute teacher at his school refused, one day, to let me take him home without a pink slip because she didn't know me, I decided to home-school him. How dare her to undermine my authority over my child! His regular teacher wanted to know if she had done anything to influence my decision to home-school him. I told her, truthfully, that she was a wonderful teacher, but that I wanted more influence in my child's life.
"As I began home-schooling him, I became aware of how good of a teacher my son was. I learned that it was not only what I said, but how I said it that could kill his self-confidence. I then taught him that there was no such thing as a stupid question, and if I didn't know the answer, we would find the answer together.
"I taught him to open doors for ladies, to pull back chairs, to respect his elders, and how -- sometimes -- God's laws and man's laws differ. I taught him of George Washington, Ben Franklin, Harriett Tubman, and Rosa Parks. He learned of Joseph, Walt Disney, and Alexander Graham Bell. He sat on the edge of his seat, wide-eyed and eager as I told him these tales. He was my life, my beacon of light in a dark world.
"I realized I had to set an example for him to follow after I was arrested in 1997. I then joined a local media association, of which I later became president. I visited Citizen's Communication at Travis County Commissioner's Court regularly, which my son watched on the local cable access channel at home as part of his history and civics lessons. One day, I stood up to defend home-schoolers and demand an apology from a commissioner who had publicly remarked that 'People who home-school are nothing more than trailer trash that don't even own their own property.' I demanded that she owed my home-schooled son, who was watching her, an apology, and I informed her that we owned property.
"When I returned home that day, my baby boy met me at the door. As I opened the car door, I noted the proud look on his face that said, 'That's MY Momma!' I wouldn't have traded that moment for the whole world. I hugged him and told him, through tears, again, how special he was.
"I bought some books from a Christian Book Distributor with which to school him. Then I opened up a Bob Can Run book and asked him to read it to me.
"'I can't,' he argued.
"'You can do anything you set your mind to do,' I told him, 'Just remember, with God, all things are possible.' Then I reminded him that he already knew the letter sounds. I challenged him to sound out the letters in the first sentence, not knowing if he would.
"He did as he was asked. When he realized he had read, 'Bob can run,' his eyes lit up as he voluntarily read the rest of the book to me, speeding up progress as he read. My husband was amazed. I then told my son, again, how special he was.
"After that, I needed only to place a book in front of him and tell him to read the directions. In three months, he had exhausted all of this first grade materials.
"When I told my mother what I was doing, once again she ridiculed me. She claimed she was 'concerned about his social skills'. I assurred her that I didn't have a problem keeping him away from drugs, teenage pregnancies, bullies, school shootings, or negative people. My son was proud of me; and, when I looked at him, I was proud of myself.
"As I taught American History to him, I became more involved in the political activities of the American Media Association. My husband and I began to fight over differing political viewpoints. I found myself more and more miserable as I worried about the kind of example this was setting for my son. So, when a political acquaintence asked me to move to Houston to help build up the organization there, I filed for a divorce.
"After explaining the situation to my son, my son agreed that moving to Houston might be a good idea. Life in Houston was a bad idea, however. The man I was living with had two daughters who were not brought up as well as I would have liked. His house was unkempt, and he refused to let me clean it. Soon, he let me know I needed to leave. So, I found myself homeless, looking for a job, and with a child to care for.
"I did the only thing I could do. I apologized to my son. I told him I had made a mistake, and that I was sorry he would have to suffer the consequences with me. I took him to stay with his real father, who had not seen him since he was a year old. Justin forgave me, assuring me that there was no way I could have known what would happen when we moved. He then told me that he was thankful to finally be able to meet his real dad. When my son was safe, 300 miles away, I searched for a job and an apartment of my own.
"I called him when I finally got settled a few weeks later. His dad wanted to know how I had accomplished so much with this child genious. 'He gripes about Clinton. He nearly brakes his legs to get to the door before a lady can open it. He says yes ma'am and no sir as if it were natural. He doesn't meddle with other people's stuff. He asks questions and reads the newspaper. Can I keep him?'
"'No,' I said, 'He is my reason for living. I want him back.'
"My new boss approved of my work habits, and encouraged me to bring my son to work with me. One day, as it stormed outside, Justin found favor in my Islamic boss' eyes by declaring, 'MOM! We should pray to God so he will protect us through this storm!"
"My boss said never had he seen so great of faith as my son had. His friends, who were visiting that day, concurred. My son showed his beacon of light, and I -- once again -- told him how special he was.
"I let him stay home while I worked, after I made sure he knew how to use the phone, lock the doors, and fix his own meals. Sometimes I would come home, and he would have built great, immaculate cities out of his Lego Blocks that even Job probably wouldn't have had the patience to build. Once, he was playing a game of Hearts on the computer that I didn't even know how to play, and he was winning. When I asked how he learned that game, concerned he'd let a stranger in the house, he showed me how to find the directions on the computer. I praised him, again.
"Once, I brought home a pizza and caught him watching Jerry Springer. He commented on the weird guests of the show, who were homosexual, prompting me to explain political correctness to him, and reminding him that God's laws were not man's laws. We talked about this at length, while he ate, then he thanked me, turned off the television, and went to bed.
"He never tired of asking me questions. 'When I learn to drive, how will I find my way everywhere. I get confused when we go to the store!' I gave him exercises to do to enhance his sense of direction. I taught him to read a map. 'What about cooking?' I showed him a recipe book, and explained what diced meant. Questions never stopped, and I never tired of answering them, or telling him how special he was.
"He learned, soon, that he didn't have to ask me questions anymore. All he needed was a dictionary, encyclopedia, or the internet to find the answers he was looking for. Oh, I still qot lots of questions, but mostly just to verify what he already knew.
"One night, I took him to work with me. As he sat on the sidewalk, in front of the store, talking to a co-worker, a robber came in and forced one of my managers and me to empty our pockets and lie on the floor. At gunpoint, we did as we were told. His accompliss had a gun to my boss' head, demanding he open the safe. I noted, while lying there that they hadn't locked the doors, and I prayed to God to protect my baby boy. 'Please, O Lord, don't let him come in this store right now!'
"My son later explained that he had started to open the door to come in, saw the robber with the gun to my boss' head, thought better of it and informed the co-worker to look, who then ran to call the police. 'It was like watching a movie. I could see everything through the glass windows!'
"Luckily, no one got hurt. Later that night, I took my son home and we had a long discussion about what he was to do if anything bad ever happened to me, his mother. At seven-years-old, he took this talk very seriously, at that point. I explained long distance phone calls, explaining where I kept the numbers if he couldn't memorize them. He hung on every word, and then we prayed to God to thank Him for His protection. Then, my son hugged me and went to bed.
"Soon, my boss sold his business. I was forced to look for another job, which I found at a local chicken franchise. The management there was indifferent to the fact that I was a mother, so I began working as a co-editor of a conservative internet newspaper, while I built my own web site to help make ends meet. I resigned as president of the AMA, which fell apart after that. I barely made enough money to cover rent, phone and food. Then, at Christmas, 1999, my car was reposessed just as I was starting my own business running errands for the elderly. I had to give that up, and began learning about commission-based advertising on the internet. After all, that was how my older son's father was making a living.
"My oldest son lived about a block away from me at that time, so I was able to keep in touch with him easily, and spend time with both my sons.
"One day in April of 2000, while I was at work, the police came and kidnapped my baby boy as he was sleeping. As I entered the gates of the apartment complex, I knew my son wasn't at home. I fearfully ran up the stares to my apartment and began searching the closets looking for him; then, I went knocking on doors. Finally, I forced myself to calm down and take a deep breath. I found a small, handwritten note on a memo pad sheet on the floor, telling me who had my son, and giving me a number to call.
"I called the Houston Juvenile Delinquent Center and demanded that they tell me where my son was and what right they had to take him! I told them under no uncertain terms, 'I want him back NOW!'
"When I was finally able to catch a cab, using my last ten dollars on my card, it was 10:00 PM when I arrived at the location they held my son. The first thing the woman asked me was "How well do you get along with your mother."
"I told her my mother was a control freak, and as long as she stays in Texarkana, and lets me live my own life in Houston, we got along great. A few moments later, a juvenile counselor came to take me to a private room for questioning.
"He informed me that on the ride over, the cops kept trying to tell my baby boy that he wasn't in trouble. My son just rolled his eyes and said, 'Oh yeah? Wait until my mom finds out I didn't lock the door to keep you out!' I smiled.
"Then he told me how they put him in a room with other kids as soon as he got there. Every corner of the room had different treats for kids. One had fruits and veggies; one had crackers and bread; one had candy; and one had drinks. He said my son went straight for the veggies, noting that that was odd for a child his age. I assured him it was not odd, and that my son had not been raised on candy. Then began the questions:
"'Where does he go to school?'
"'I home-school'
"'Has he been tested?'
"'The state of Texas doesn't require me to, but he knows history, he reads at a high school level. He does simple algebra. He can recite the scientific elements. He's only seven. If you want me to, I can.
"'What do you do in your spare time?'
"'I co-edit an on-line newspaper'
"'Do you attend parties, go to bars, etc.'
"'No, I don't drink. I don't smoke pot. I do smoke cigarettes. I drink tea.'
"'There wasn't much food in the house.'
"'I bring food home from work every night. We eat chicken, corn on the cobb, beans and rice, french fries, and fried okra.'
"'We noticed chicken bones on a plate on the floor.'
"I need to clean my apartment. I do that once a week on my days off.'
"'I was just verifying what you said. Frankly, we saw no mold or bugs, so it's obvious you don't let it get to bad. You said you co-edit a newspaper. Are you media?'
"I guess you could say that. I research news for writers. I just resigned my post with the American Media Association.'
"'Excuse me.'
"He left the room, then came back and said,
"'My supervisor is pressuring me to give your son back to you.' He took me out of the room and I met my baby boy in the lobby. All I could do was stare at him. I told him I was so worried, scared he was gone for good. He apologized for not locking the door, and I let him know that was the least of my concerns at that moment.
"The counselor informed me that it was against the law, in Texas, for children to be left unattended during the day if they were under nine-years-old. If they were over seven-years-old, they could be left alone after 6:00 PM. I asked him how he could expect me to work, then, seeing I was already struggling to just pay the bills. I told him I had a neighbor who would help me.
"When we got home, I called my mother. I asked her to let me borrow money for next month's rent, while I searched for a graveyard job. My mother said no, but I could come live with her and she would send me to college. I asked her if I could have my computer, so I could continue what I was doing on the internet. She said, 'No.' I asked her about home-schooling my son. She said, 'No.' So I said,
"'In other words, I have to live under your control, like a 32-year-old child, and not be able to do anything I want to do.'
"She said, 'Yes'. I said, 'No'.
"I sat my son down and told him what had transpired between my mother and me. I told him I was stuck between a rock and a hard place and I didn't know what to do. He asked me, 'What are our options?'
"'I can do what she wants and you will be physically cared for, but I won't be able to help you become all you want to be because she won't let me; or, I can call your dad; or, the state will take you. I don't know what to do. I don't have a job, now. We're rationing food, already. I have to do something. He offered to go to his dad's. So, I called his father, and his father agreed to come get him.
"The next day, a CPS agent came to inform me that I must be lying to her. It seemed that my neighbor said she had not seen my son. I took her into his room, as he napped in his shorts, uncovered him and said, 'There he is.'
"Then she started asking me questions about work, etc. I then told her, 'It doesn't matter what I tell you at this point, because tomorrow, he will be with his father in Nocona, Texas.'
"'Can you give me some way to verify this?' she asked.
"I gave her his paternal grandmother's telephone number, and informed her that his father was already on his way.
"That night, as his dad carried all his bags out, I knelt down to look my son in the eye. I told him, again, how special he was to me. I hugged him hard, and held back the tears as I begged his forgiveness. I told him again that one day he would be great, and that he would change the world.
"'I want you to dream dreams. I want you to have opportunities that I, or your dad, never had. See things we can only imagine. Do things we can only dream of. You'll be going to public school, now, so remember what all I taught you. Don't be afraid to ask questions. And, son, never, never let anyone tell you it can never be done. You can do anything you set your mind to do. With God, all things are possible.'
"Letting him go, that day, was like cutting off my body to save my arm. It was the hardest thing I ever did in my life, and I felt as if I had failed him, somehow. I then charged his father to not let my mother have access to him. I was afraid she'd find a way to put out his light. He understood, knowing my mother, and agreed."
The artist stranger was frowning when I looked at him again. He then asked, "How is your son, now?"
I smiled through teary eyes and said, "He's doing well. He was enrolled during test weeks, the last two weeks of second grade in Nocona Elementary School. After school let out, he received a letter from the NEA (National Education Association) with a plaque for scoring in the top 5% of the nation on his test scores. Since then, he's won 3rd place in Spelling UIL State Competitions in 3rd grade, and 2nd in 4th grade. As his 5th grade school year ended, he received a President's award for scoring in Texas' top 5% in his multi-level achievement testing. His father says he scored at high school and college levels in everything.
"I called him from Michigan last month to wish him a happy birthday. He asked me, 'Mom, you said where ever I wanted to go, you'll help me get there, right?'
"'Yes!' I answered.
"'Mom, I want to be a rocket scientist. I want to go to NASA. I want to go to the moon!'
"I got on the internet and sent him as many books on NASA and space that I could afford."
The waitress brought my food. I looked up, and noticed ten other customers sitting at the bar with coffee in front of them, staring at me. I paid my ticket, then picked up my food.
The Bible says that we should always be kind to strangers, because they could be Angels in disguise. I couldn't help but think of this when the stranger handed me a pewter-cross necklace, laden with turquoise. He said, "Your children have been given a great blessing. Your children are great, regardless of what may become of them, because they have a great mother. You did well."
I fought back the tears as I clenched the cross in my hands, thanking him and excusing myself by saying I needed to get the food back to the truck while it was hot.
As I walked back to the truck, noting the moon's reflection in every truck windshield on my way, I wondered:
If I had not done what I did, and how I did it, would my older son be entertaining the idea of helping problem children and reaching for lost souls? Would my baby boy, my shining beacon of light in a dark world, be reaching for the moon?
I thanked God for giving me the greatest gift of all:
Motherhood.
Sunday, October 08, 2006
Pet Peeves # 1
One of my pet peeves is grudgeholders. I don't have a problem with someone holding a grudge, per say, but if someone has a problem with me, it doesn't do them any good to be mad if I don't know why they are mad at me.
I recently had a friend who held a grudge for 2 months. During those 2 months, my feelings were hurt just about every day. All I kept thinking is all I have done is try to be a friend, so why was this person upset with me? After 2 months, this person holding the grudge finally came out and said what was wrong. We aired out our differences and figured out that the problem wasn't really a problem, and if we had talked about this 2 months ago, everything would have been better.
I recently had a friend who held a grudge for 2 months. During those 2 months, my feelings were hurt just about every day. All I kept thinking is all I have done is try to be a friend, so why was this person upset with me? After 2 months, this person holding the grudge finally came out and said what was wrong. We aired out our differences and figured out that the problem wasn't really a problem, and if we had talked about this 2 months ago, everything would have been better.
Friday, September 08, 2006
Goals and Internet Blues
Sometimes life throws you curves, and you just have to duck. Other times, you watch the ball and catch it, then you gotta be quick to decide what to do with it. I'm at one of those points in my life.
After losing everything I owned, ending up renting a bedroom from a friend for $30/week, and working my butt off at Waffle House, I now have my own vehicle (which I need to renew tags and inspection on by the end of this month), my bank account is re-opened, a new cell phone, and I'm working on paying the taxes on that bar I had to shut down about 9 months ago (I owe $3297.00...I didn't sell that much beer!) My life really sucks right now...but I'm working on it.
I've been setting goals, and meeting them. So, right now, my newest goal (besides getting my taxes paid) is to get a computer of my own again, so I can keep up with this blog, among other things.
I hate getting a new cell phone or bank account and looking at all the pamphlets that come with them for me to read, and seeing in print about how I can take care of business by going to www.so-and-so.com to take care of my accounts online. It makes me wonder what they did back in the old days before there were computers. I mean, Computers are supposed to make life easier, right? But, for those of us who don't have them, it is an inconvenience.
Friday, September 01, 2006
Respect Yourself First
I've learned that respect has to be something you have for yourself before you can ask anyone else to have it for you. You cannot demand respect if you are not willing to give it to someone else first, and you can't give away what you don't have for yourself.
A lady doesn't allow a gentleman to touch her unless he proves to her that he has good intentions. In order to make that happen, she has to respect herself enough to tell him "NO" and mean it. She never buys his drinks; She never gives him money; and, she never leaves in the same vehicle he is driving. She doesn't go home with him. And, she doesn't call him.
If he is interested enough in her, he will call her. He will be willing to treat her like a lady. And, he will prove he is willing to walk the line while he's doing it.
If there is one thing I've learned, it's that good men crave a woman like that. Because, if she can say no to him, she can say no to anyone else, and trust is a major issue when it comes to having a relationship.
A lady doesn't allow a gentleman to touch her unless he proves to her that he has good intentions. In order to make that happen, she has to respect herself enough to tell him "NO" and mean it. She never buys his drinks; She never gives him money; and, she never leaves in the same vehicle he is driving. She doesn't go home with him. And, she doesn't call him.
If he is interested enough in her, he will call her. He will be willing to treat her like a lady. And, he will prove he is willing to walk the line while he's doing it.
If there is one thing I've learned, it's that good men crave a woman like that. Because, if she can say no to him, she can say no to anyone else, and trust is a major issue when it comes to having a relationship.
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