Thank You for Serving

Both my dad and my wife's dad came home one day after a long 'bout in Vietnam.  They returned to a country that seemed either to hate him or that wasn't aware he'd come home, maybe wasn't even certain he was ever home in the first place.  They were, like immigrant America, tired and poor, huddled masses yearning to breathe free.  These were the homeless and tempest-tossed we'd sent, some of them more homeless than ever because we did.  Some, we'd not yet earned their trust and yet they defended us.  My lungs well with thankful heaves.  For Americans of every journey, America's not a land, it's a mindset, a way of life.  

Was a quiet day when our camo-covered dads landed back on our soil.  I'll forever salute our dads and be grateful that they returned home.  I'll forever cross my heart and sing loudly and proudly for the ones who couldn't make it home.  

Turns out my birth defect called Spina Bifida has something to do with Agent Orange.  Agent Orange was not a Dutch super-spy, although it certainly fell from aircraft...was much less elusive though.  Agent Orange, the mighty jungle obliterator, the weaponized pesticide, has much to do with when dad served the United States in Vietnam.  The U.S. spread that stuff--thought it would help--tried to keep the war out of the jungles by killing the jungle.  Lasting effect though is more an example of types of friendly fire.  That and everything about war is a lot to sacrifice and a lot to deal with in a lifetime.  Few soldiers dream for death and war and Agent Orange, but they go when called on.  No one truly understands the powerful motives for war, the cause of cause, the paradigms or what it is about their nation that's worthy, always worth the defense, but they serve and defend anyway.  Few truly understand the courage and strength that is the current and currency of a soldier facing the tip of a gun, or the switch of an IED, potentially laced with sarin, or stand in the breach for those whom they love within a nation that is theirs; for they who huddle in homes nestled on a fuzzy line between right and wrong.

I suppose we could relate a bit of what it is to stand in the breach for another; we'd resist opposition to great lengths for our children, for our friend.  We'd honor them with our lives wouldn't you think?  

I know soldiers; intrepid but welted soldiers, flew home to open arms of family and friends who'd in poignant ways gotten used to life without them...had to just in case they couldn't return.  Some sons or daughters waited whom hadn't even met their own dads yet.  That sacrifice straps to the servant soldier's back one-hundred pounds at a time; geared up men and women who form, who run, who crouch who lie.  They return home to open arms of family wishing for a large dose of love and a little of what was, and getting large or small doses of PTSD and at the very least...scars.  War makes life harder to love sometimes.  War makes it difficult to mow the lawn, paint the walls, go out to eat or watch the kids perform some kind of thing...any kind of thing.  Scars make or break families.

These men and women know these soul-traps are coming and yet they bind themselves to ships and guns and aircraft ready to defend what they love.  Duty requires these men and women to look into the faces of other men and women from other places, other nations and hold their own people, the immigrant home, richly in their heart; for they must look upon full-on men and women and then fight them.

War.  A sometimes necessary, sometimes penurious, impoverishing experience.

We've heard stories of oppression and suppression and extreme cruelty to people of other lands, and we've heard of cruelty on our own soil and these evils must expect push-back, must accept the righteous torrent that seeks evil's erasure.  These evils--they're worth eradicating, worth pushing back.  The faithful desire besting monsters.  

There are long histories of boogeymen under the bed.  

A caveat: The people of God are no strangers to monsters--we know.  Sometimes those who call themselves the people of God are the monsters.  It's sometimes difficult to speak for, let alone hear the voice of God.  We just can't be perfect people, even as we constantly wish we were.  We know there's something about freedom that's easier to explain than reveal, even as it's revealed anyway.  It takes certain people of faith to stand for the others, with the others and by the others; takes certain people to hold people safely on their path.  

Good men desire peace--yearn for it. Sometimes oppression must be quelled so that peace ensues.  But peace does not need a cause to call itself peace.  Darkness is not the opposite of light, for light is something.  Darkness needs the light for those to understand they've been in darkness, not the other way around.  The American people--we're not perfect--have many flaws.  But I know one thing.  We seek a free people wherever we send you soldier.  That knowledge alone can lift a man covered in soot, jungle, rock and sand.

I don't know what you saw my friend, I don't know what you experienced or how.  I know you served humbly the freedom cause.  And I know it wasn't silent the day you returned because there were many of us with open arms, hoping you were ok, hoping you could now survive this life, and you will.  Because our arms will never close to you, only around you.

It was a loud and joyful day when you returned home brother and sister, we're mindful that while you are safe, you might not feel secure.  And it was and is with great pride that we receive you, and by an eternity of gratefulness we now protect you.  

Thank you for serving soldier.  A free people welcomes you home.  God bless you.

Tattoos and Hope

I understand why some people ink tattoos into their skin.  Well, I understand many of the reasons people ink tattoos into their skin.  Most tattooees want to remember something meaningful about their life, want to give an event such significance that serves as a constant memory driven banner.  Of course tattoos bear a tougher, more gritty, more fashionable aura than say, a string tied around around a finger.

We saw an old WWII war ship retired on the Ohio River on the banks of an Illinois town.  She now serves patrons as a museum and a gift shop.  I suppose, like a tattoo that, while none of the most important technology even exists on the ship anymore, being forever classified, that the ship serves as an American tattoo of triumph and tragedy.  I'm not sure the appeal an old but furious gun ship that grips onlookers.  If you were honest, when she was in full service you would not have wanted to be close to the ship.  Some get the tattoo, others the scar of war.

I'm slightly offended that a man's work aboard that ship, any ship, can be reduced to souvies and treats.  I guess monuments such as a stripped down ship offer people hope of triumph, for what it's worth.

And so there she was, proud, strong and dormant.  I suppose she still echoes with the scars of deep waters; we all do in our own way.  I turned from the big ship and I and my friends drove away still wondering what there was to remember.  Earlier we'd taken a walk down a path along the Ohio river to a visitor center nearby.  A flag rope clanked against a flagpole near the center and hanging from it was an old, tattered, ripped up American flag--looked more like a rat hanging from a pole.  I was offended and I told someone that I was.  I tell you I'm not a people of rats.  The flag did not inspire hope.

I'm not sure the old retired ship did either. I get that people fight, but I hate that death remains the only way to save a people.

That's how it was with Christ.  I'm glad I'm safe, but I'm not glad that he had to suffer like he did.  I wish humans hadn't needed such sacrifice.  But a person willing to go out and save his people seems like something to honor, even if you're not glad about it.  Their wounds are our tattoo, our honor are theirs.

And so yesterday, the triumphant waved banners and promised balanced budgets, integrity in the office and new ways of thinking.  The last night's speeches rang triumphant, but hinted toward an uppity tremor of supremacy and leaned into disdain.  I heard the same disdain, even cruelty four years ago when the Democrats won the House, the Senate and then two years ago, the Presidency.  The winners bore their Visigothic chests.  I think people hoped that leaders lived their message, that being hope, unity and fairness, but instead gained division and more disdain.  The same has been heard all over the world for as many years as the world's existed.  But I'm here now.  This means something to me now.  Now some new folks are in D.C., and last night, more triumph with a slightly distasteful edge.  I know what I don't like.  I don't like abortion, testing from aborted children, high taxes and big government.  I have my vote, but friends, neighbors and Americans alike certainly do not have my disdain.

And I heard little last night about those of us who were on other lands striving for freedom within the longest engaged war effort in U.S. history.  They desire that their leaders ink another honored tat on their hearts, but were instead, virtually ignored.  I think we need less disdain.  A kind word turns away wrath says the Proverbs.  Civil disobedience can do as much harm as all out war.  But maybe we should be thankful for sacrifice and want less death, less suffering.  By one death, many are often saved.

Maybe one party or another can triumph with grace.

I do have hope.  I think it's worth flying a clean flag.  I'm gonna get a tattoo sometime soon.

War and Shadows

You know what?  Today's election day.  I suppose one might call it an off-election because the leader of the land won't be elected for another two years.  I believe today are the most important elections however.  These are the real days when the checks and balances become done or undone.  These are the days when the people test their turf against the Executive, Legislative and Judicial branches, exactly as the Constitution of these United States intended.

Today is more than a memorial of the fallen--this is war out of the shadows, a day no one is fallen, but a battle waged.  Freedom is more than the will of the people; even the people need to be checked and balanced.  Today you and I work to maintain the balance against unlimited power by any citizen, by all citizens.  You may be a President or a legislator or a judge.  You might teach or preach or heal.  One must wonder about the days when our freedoms were declared, a day when we became unique.  Fall back to the day when the entire central America was purchased in a landmark deal called the Louisiana Purchase.  They were men who needed to be united, but united under the idea that they or anyone else restricted themselves; were unwilling and disallowed to usurp any more than what their constitution gave them.

I encourage you not to vote to protect your entitlements or your ideas about the class structures or your thoughts about the rich.  Don't begrudge the rich their riches or the poor their freedom or the religious their joy.  Limit yourself to engage in their freedom today.  By their freedom you can be most generous with resources and love.  There are many who expanded our freedom by limiting their life for your good.  I wrote about it and presented it to two men who entered into the battle long ago.  It's oft said they went to war, but theirs was a healing adventure--they fixed the wounded, and tended the sores of freedom.  Hopefully you get that today.  It wasn't always that way.  We've pursued types of freedom for others all around the world.  Freedoms mean greater things for all men, greater advantages and greater opportunities.  Your government is trying to tell you they need more and more from you. Today you get to demand that the American dream was never the big house.  The American dream was inexhaustible freedom, but checked and balanced freedom, and a government was established that would model exactly that dream.  You used to have your backs turned when military servicemen returned home.  You were too busy worrying about issues other than what they meant to secure for you.  These days many welcome our military service men and women home exuberantly, and I'm glad of that.  But today let me share with you the poem written for two very special men, but now also shared with you to remind you what foundations are set, that today might happen.

It's called War and Shadows.

I’ve been in the shadows but never in the hole.

I’ve never faced my enemy

twixt a bullet and some steel.

I’ve never left the Green Latrine

With guns in hand,

From salty beach.

I’ve never hung off highway one,

Last chance my son,

You duck, you done.

Rare have any of us, bewitched by cause

strove through our enemies.

and the fated deaths those that sustained us.

I can retell the stories heard but could never relive

jungle rotted footsteps, atrophied wills.

And I could never duplicate the yellow in a man’s eyes
after scores of days amidst holes and shadows,

Behind the steel and fatigues, behind the pale of war

behind the fire, is a man used to death.

Yellow.

Freedom’s costs are those with discolored souls,

marked well through their eyes

Yellow.

Strength built in them are freedom’s price.

Liberty’s quest never ceases; her requirements fierce;

Freedom must be paid,

and by you she beckons,

Crimson.

The only shot above my head were my father’s honorable,

alacritous words, held strong deep in holes

bullets nigh,

“Medic!”

Crimson blood.

Man dies, under God’s eyes

and in saying so – you might,

should you need of our way of life.

For what I stand for,

as a soldier, as a parent, as a sibling and as a friend

I also live and die for.

Courageous and terrible choices formed the free path you and I tread today.

The rockets glared red above them… And I live free.

Trust enough not to rely on outcomes

Trust enough to allow a broken heart

Your spouse is freedom and you loved her well.

I’ve never felt the furrowed shadows

of a silent home,

a living grave,

a deep hole

a cloistered fox

But in the shadows the cracked freedom bell rung,

Each bullet being freedom’s clapper and the ring.

Freedom lives beyond my breath

For liberty welcomes all

And even cracked freedom bells always, if not faintly, ring.

I know you’re tired brother.

But take the tong and strike the bell, brother

And she will yell with us: “Welcome home!”

Rings the call,

my salute;

Welcome home, brother.

Welcome home.

Let Freedom Ring

Veterans Day came and went.  I remembered, certainly.  


But I got to thinking...


I'm sick of the rhetoric.  "Violence never solves anything," "Peace Matters," "Don't punish terrorists, kill Guantanamo."  There are more and I'm sick of it.  


I don't like war, I don't.  "Fighting sucks," is my understatement for the year.  I can't comprehend a fight behind the mask of an M-14.  I've been scared before but...


I'm for freedom.  I want you to have an opinion.  I want you to say you like this idea, and you don't like that idea.  I want you to believe what you believe, and I want you to like football and baseball, and I want you to not like sports at all.  I want you to worship, or I want you to choose to stay in bed.  


I want for you the freedom to support or criticize.


My classmate Anne, in high school long ago, wrote a prize winning speech called "Let Freedom Ring!"  The speech contained the mantra over and over again: "Let Freedom Ring," she said.


I believe that's who we are.


Leaders have motives and motifs behind their decisions... philosophies behind reasons.  Some reasons may be access to oil, to improve trade routes, to protect the American people from terrorism.  But in the end, the American people and their leaders wanted and want freedom for people.  


American history -- stories of wars between our own people, stories of how America was formed, massive numbers of American-Indian lives cruelly lost and changed--ugly stories.  


But... I can't help but believe that developing vast new cultures that have never been seen before, such as The United States of America beginning in the 16 and 1700's, take unimaginable sacrifice.  The sacrifice becomes even more amazing when we understand that people like you and I have been historically willing to face the sacrifice head on.  They've been willing to endure ridicule and criticism by so many of us, to protect freedom for those same people.  Rough stories can't change what good and strong people really wanted-- despite an imperfect history, we and our leaders desire and desired freedom.  And given enough time, we can now clearly see who of us desire freedom and those who mask oppression with pretty little bows--legislation that serves only to make us more dependent, to deplete our intuition, to internally defeat our own sense of freedom... and deplete the free nation's morale.  However, I believe I'm seeing a people beginning to stand against oppression again...against our own form of the Berlin Wall.  Many of us are speaking out.  You and I have witnessed our nation inspired by freedom and disgusted by oppression, and we should want that now--in some ways we should want that again.


My dad, and my dad-in-law both served in war and, while I could not comprehend their experience, I can boast in my pride of them and those who served with them.  I am grateful that they were willing to allow my freedom, the idea of freedom, and the freedom of others to land squarely on their shoulders.  They are heroes.  I'm thankful every day.  I wake up every day and breath free air because of them and people like them.  I don't want them to regret their fight, because in success, and despite failure, they fought for something--their leaders and commanders wanted freedom for a people, whether they be Americans or South Vietnamese.  In my opinion, my dad and my dad-in-law should be proud of their torrid days in dreaded jungles.  They came home to a silent, ridiculing nation, but they stood...they saluted their nation.  Only recently have some people, some journalists, regaled historical proofs that reveal their heroism, their purpose, and the mantra of leaders who desired nothing less than free people.


Even you and I have ulterior motives behind our decisions.  What I do might seem unwise to you, but be patient and I might surprise you.  That's what men did with freedom in the late 1700's.  Despite a few ulterior motives, so many of us have strived for the pursuit that freedom allows.  Leaders and their advisors decide by their presuppositions, in part for their legend, for their legacy...but also in part for the freedom of the people, by the people and for the people.  On the flip-side, when leaders seem to derail American's freedom, we are constitutionally obligated to contest them, to push them back, and to eventually push them away by our vote.  Demand your freedom...let freedom ring, people!  Because the true worth of our free America reveals a people--Americans rising to every occasion with millions of their own dollars, and pounds of muscle behind every hammer within our borders, but also in Haiti, the Dominican, in Africa, in Asia and in most places of the world.  Americans desire the best, under God, indivisible, with Liberty and Justice for all.


Despite some strategic mistakes, despite McNamaras and others who defined kinks in the American armor, we wanted freedom for Europe in the World Wars, we wanted a vision for Korea, wanted freedom for the Vietnamese, want freedom for Iraq and the Middle East, we want to protect the Israeli nation and we want to give a new reality to Afghanistan.  

I know what you're saying--I've heard it a million times--"Every nation has their own culture, and we can't hope to make them be 'Little Americas.'"  But look closely...we don't want them to be us...we want them to be them, but a 'free' them.  They'll suffer the change as we did, but freedom works.

History shows that when one nation attacks another, the conquering nation intends to have the conquered nation for themselves.  However, the examples I gave prove America to be different.  American people want freedom for nations.  We want a freedom for nations in which they can exist on their own.  In fact, America's actions have inspired some form of elections in several nations in the last few years.  Our leader's words inspired an oppressive Berlin Wall to fall.

We can tell some horrific stories...but Anne said, "Let Freedom Ring" and Americans have expected and have gotten nothing less--until now, I believe.

I believe the mantra is changing.  Our leaders seem to dampen our freedom bell that was, until recently, heard around the world.

I know what freedom feels like--there's no explanation--take the joy of a Budweiser on a hot day and times that feeling by millions and there-in lies a free life.  


Freedom exists for a precious few nations, and we should want freedom for them.  We should expect nothing less.

What do you know of Light?

There is never another day when you will get to see the light for the first time. To be born again--not only an apt description of the moment you first see God, it's the only one. Imagine the battle taken from dark places, a struggle ensues, a push, a gasp, a wail--your body, your head misshapen. Everything about where you were seems so warm, so right and yet for some reason you feel compelled to burst forth and all the while the blood and sweat and cries of the one who gave you birth covers you from head to toe. Lux Aurumque--turn on the light in your own home and your satisfied and glad for it. You take your steps, retrieve this or that, move through your home...it's been only moments and you've forgotten the light.

But to be born again is to know that even if you had ever seen the light before, the place you were was so dark, so heavy, so...internal, as to have forgotten light existed. The relief...the joy that comes from even a sliver leaves one feeling foreign but adopted, resplendent yet dumb-founded, like hearing a language without voice and completely unfamiliar as to never gain understanding. Like being stripped naked without feeling sacrificed but completely borne. A light not only overwhelming, but absolutely stunning--stunned into silence--stunned into such an awe-filled existence as to never again express the first day you saw light.

Let me tell you something. I've a Christmas story I'll tell you each and every year until you hear my voice. You may not believe the Christmas story, I understand that. But if you hear it told, I want you to know the full story.

You already know the story in Luke 2. A Census was called and Mary and her Husband, both descendents of King David left for Bethlehem to be counted. Mary, a virgin, was pregnant by the power of the Holy Spirit. They entered Bethlehem where the Son of God was born. Hosts of Angels visited Shepherds in the night and announced the birth. Folklore tell us that a sweet Choir of happy angels visited the Shepherds and while the Shepherds lay face down on the ground the Angels enjoyed a little sing-a-long. Fat baby angel swirling around the sky firing rubber "joy" arrows at the Shepherds.

Until you read the story told in Revelation 12. Satan, a mighty dragon waited at the doorstep of the birth so that he might kill the Christ. But God's Angels were there and they swooped Him up to Heaven while his mother fled to safety in the desert. A mighty war ensued in the heavens...a battle greater than all wars in time and space put together. Michael and his soldiers, God's Army, commanded to surround God's son at his birth and take him to his Father in Heaven. He would not be devoured by Satan under any circumstances. The one task complete, God turned towards Satan and directed His army at them. They swooped into the battlefield with such fury as to shake the heavens and God's army conquered the Devil's army with might and surety. Satan and the other angels were all hurled to earth--the place where Satan himself tried to murder the mother of the Christ. When she escaped Satan vowed to reek havoc on her offspring, namely those who are adopted children of Light...those who know God...and those who, as with His son, shall never be taken. Yet Satan vows to bring you misery and hopes to take you to such dark places where even your own fingers float into memory.

Luke 2 says that a host of angels appeared before the Shepherds and that they were very much afraid. If Angels, weapons gleaming, armed to the teeth, appeared before you, would you not fall prostrate? DO YOU HEAR ME? They asked. "Do not fear", they said, "We mean you no harm."

"Glory to God in the Highest" they said. It's like the confident cry of the United States Marines..."Hoo-rahh" they say, Semper Fi. A group of men and women so ardently in love with their country, so beholden to their task, patriotic to the bone...hoo-rahh. Take that times a million, maybe more. A race of Angels persistently, joyfully and without a second thought lift their voices in the most joyful, fierce, loyal, proud, yet humble cry of any age up until this very day. Listen...I said LISTEN--"GLORY TO GOD IN THE HIGHEST AND ON EARTH PEACE ON WHOM HIS FAVOR RESTS!" Angels, battle hardened angels, honed their skills, ripped their muscles and sharpened their tools--hoo-rahh, Glory to God in the Highest, Hoo-rahh. The greatest war of any time and space would occur..."DO YOU HEAR ME?" They would knock Satan's guts straight out his back...

And we have them "Sweetly singing oe'r the plain." No. Absurd. NO! NO! A host is an army and by all that lives and breathes an eternal war raged amongst beings whose strength we could never comprehend, acting as a language no man could even recognize as such, and even so, scripture says that they were sent to serve us.

Sweetly singing. Comical. Cute. But untrue.

Some of you might not believe the story told in Scripture. In my opinion Santa's harder to believe than the story of the birth of Christ God's Son.  But even then, should you hear the story of Christ's birth told this year, keep in mind that, at least for me, I'm glad the full Angelic power showed up that night.  Ripped, ironclad Hosts drew their most powerful weapons and witnessed God's son enter Earth. I would've fallen over too.

What do you know of light?

I'll tell the story again next year.

Merry Christmas.

Cut-N-Run Club

A little thing has me a bit burned. The left has made it a policy to be against the war. Their slogan used to be "Bush Lied, People died" as if he was the only one who knew anything about anything. Intelligence was what it was. I'm certainly for allowing people their opinion, just as I have mine. The above slogan shows a lot of disrespect for their President and for the American system. I can overlook that. Politics are what they are.

But Hillary's fundraising system is taken a lot of heat and yet she's the media's god-child. Other Dems have gotten themselves in a lot of trouble and yet can't keep their mouth shut about a man who may or may not have wanted a little "tryst" in an airport bathroom. I don't support bathroom shenanigans either, and I can understand some politician's relief to have the heat taken off of them for awhile. But now, Senators Schumer, Durban, Clinton, Obama and others have gone too far. I believe they've gone into traitorous "terror"itory. Dick Durban started the malay about a year ago by comparing U.S. military to Pol Pot and Nazi's. He should've resigned for that. Then Obama during a recent speech said the U.S. Military is killing Innocents and raping women and abusing children. Hillary and others have had the indecency to illegitimize a highly decorated General, General Petraeus, who has been trusted with a huge and very difficult job even before he gave his recent report. These people are cut-n-run artists bent on U.S. failure who have proved that they hate their Military...and I think it's unacceptable. I think it's traitorous.

One doesn't have to like everything the Military does. But there are men and women have are coming home from Iraq and Aghganistan and they have to come home to a nation who's leaders are hell-bent to make us distrust them. A few of you out there had to come home to that very same attitude a few decades back...it doesn't feel good. It's awful.

What kind of political policy allows you to say the most terrible of things for the sole purpose of getting ahead. Is that what we should expect from the leaders of one of the greatest nations in the world? To end this blog let me quote New York Senator Chuck Schumer:

"And let me be clear: the violence in Anbar has gone down despite the surge, not because of the surge. The lack of protection for these tribes from al Qaeda made it clear to these tribes, “We have to fight al Qaeda ourselves.” It wasn’t that the surge brought peace here. It was that the warlords had to create a temporary peace here on their own. And that is because there was no one else there protecting them."

Chuck and all the others from the Cut-n-Run club used to rail against the time table, about the civil unrest there (middle 1800's...we sort of had our own civil unrest...it happens when you're trying to develop a country), and about faulty intelligence. Now, they've simply gone to hating the American Military and their capabilities...and have sided with the opinions of the local Iraqi warlords. One can't imagine how amazing this is to me, and it's amazing we're willing to let them get away with it.