Darker still...

Blackbirds Second Flight
By Various Authors

     Enjoy new dark and twisted stories and poems from Stephen B. Bagley, Wendy Blanton, Gail Henderson, Ken Lewis, Jean Schara, and Heath Stallcup, including:
☀ A writer challenges her murderous muse.
☀ Dragons and riders stage a daring rescue.
☀ Gangsters face off over the world's fate.z
☀ Warriors duel to their deaths in the sky.
☀ A father battles ghosts to save his daughter.
☀ The sidhe never forget nor forgive.
☀ It's Malone's Way, or the fur will fly.
☀ A shaman invades Tulsa on a killing hunt.
     And much more!
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Something darker...

Blackbirds First Flight
By Various Authors
    Enjoy these dark fantasies:

★ An unhappy wife can't decide what to do about her boorish husband until an uneaten meal gives her a dark idea...
★ Something is raising zombies in Tulsa, and Justina Grave is the only one who can stop it...
★ When a fat farm promises to make Edyth thin again, her dream comes true. She will never be fat again—or safe...
★ Hopping a freight train can be a cheap way to travel. Unless you pick the wrong boxcar...
★ One kiss gives Francois immortality, but at a cost he doesn't see coming...
★ A warrior must choose her fate as the Romans ravage her land...
★ Stalked by terrible creatures seeking vengeance, a band of robbers runs for their lives in medieval France...
    This anthology will lead you into dark, twisted places filled with mystery and delight. Enjoy thrilling stories and chilling poems by authors Stephen B. Bagley, Kent Bass, Wendy Blanton, Gail Henderson, Tamara Siler Jones, and Jean Schara.
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Buy on Barnes & Noble!
Buy on Better World Books!
Buy on BooksAMillion!
Buy on Lulu!
Buy on Powell's!

Query

Ever feel like your warranty has expired and you're going along dropping parts and duct-taping repairs as you can?

Hm?

No?

Well, just thought I would ask.

No reason.

Still believin'

I still believe in the power of love.

Yeah, I know. I'm a bit backward and loopy, but I still do.

Many people think a relationship with God is basically punishment, guilt, shame, and not getting to have any fun. They're wrong, but it might not be their fault. Plenty of churches have taught the doctrine of crushing, blind obedience, and that you can only get into Heaven by the tips of your desperate fingernails--if that.

I don't know how God has become so mean in our modern times. I read the four Gospels, and all I can see is love, forgiveness, and mercy, but instead of the Bible being a comfort, it has become a club. Stop using it that way! That's not what Jesus wanted. It's not what He commanded. He wanted us to love each other, to feed the poor, to care for the sick, and to comfort other people when they sorrow. He wanted us to be better. To do better.

So let's do that. What do you say?

Learning while journeying

Do you dread Monday? From Sunday noon on, I feel like the week is rushing to Monday. When I was employed, I loved the weekend when I had time to write and play on my computer and call friends and all the things that gave me joy. It's a shame that debt keeps so many of us working so hard that we can enjoy life only in small doses. Or maybe it makes us appreciate those times even more. Would our time be as precious if we had all we wanted? We might waste it instead of treasuring it. We humans are like that; give us what we want and we find it wasn't what we wanted and so we misuse what was precious to us. Wisdom is, I think, learning to cherish what needs to be cherished. Or as a writer I admire put it: choosing clear, cold water and a sword.

Someone once said that the true test of your character is what you do when no one is looking. I've been thinking about that lately, about the choices I've made and the other paths I could have walked. I was told recently that I'm unyielding. It wasn't meant as a compliment, but I think I will take it as such. I know what's right and I know what's wrong. I know how to choose between the two. And mostly I think I chose the former, but I know of times when I chose the latter. I'm not perfect, not by a long shot, but unyielding, yeah, I'm that. When something is wrong, then we have to speak out against it. We have to oppose it. To not do so means that we simply don't care or we're too lazy to care.

I must admit sometimes I get tired of caring. People who don't care seem to have better lives than mine. They have all things by which this world measures success: money, lovers, toys, travel, etc. I guess it makes me small-minded to say I'd like a few of those cherries on my plate. Well, who doesn't? It's getting those cherries without sacrificing our morals and ideas--that's the hard thing. I don't know how it's done, but I know people do it. And maybe we will, too. If not, heck, there are worse things in this world than working hard and getting by. Don't you think so?

Learning to take joy in the journey, that's what I'm trying to do. To enjoy time with friends, to embrace the town and state and nation in which I live, to help where I can, and to pray and work without ceasing for the better world around the corner of tomorrow.

Those are my goals. I probably won't achieve them wholly. But the striving for them is what makes life worthwhile. That's my take on things this Sunday on the 19th day of the month of July in the 2020th year of our Lord.

Musical

I recently binge-watched Zoey's Extraordinary Playlist. If you like musicals, it's a good show with a clever concept and a good heart for the most part. If it bothers you that people suddenly break into song backed up by a full orchestra, naturally you won't like it.

My family is musical. We had voice lessons when we were children and sang endlessly at church and school. I have a great appreciation for music and enjoy many musicals. Especially the great ones, like Man of La Mancha, Into the Woods, Oklahoma (naturally), Godspell, Passion, Chorus Line, Cabaret, Camelot, The Garden, Waitress, Sunday in the Park with George, Fiddler on the Roof, Gypsy, ... oh, the list goes on and on.

I've never completely trusted people who can't respond to musicals. I wonder what they lack in their souls. How sad their worldview must be when it can't admit the possibility of music and wonder in their lives. I've known many people who sneer at musicals. I pity them because of all they miss, and worse, because of all they're incapable of understanding. It is the suspension of disbelief that is sadly lacking.

Of course, we don't live in a musical world. We live in a world of indiscriminate viruses, senseless wars, drive-by shootings, murderer martyrs, child molesters, serial killers, and a thousand horrors that we accept as being the real world. We boast of our wisdom and maturity as we despoil the environment and let thousands of children die each day of starvation while we stuff another Big Mac down our gaping maws as the self-righteous smugly give us the moral justification for sitting on our lazy butts. You think I don't understand what this world is because I'm autistic? I understand better than most could ever realize. I watch the parade of broken lives and senseless sorrows, and I rage. I cry.

For a few minutes, an hour or so, I like to pretend that a better world exists somewhere where people sing their dreams and feelings and can express their love in a song with an invisible orchestra that accompanies them on cue. I like to think maybe dreams matter and the good guys win and we are capable of being more than tiny creatures who shame creation.

Sometimes I wonder if we're the fallen angels, cast out of Heaven because of our greed and selfishness, our hatred and pettiness. And that maybe that spark of Heaven in our soul still longs to fly, to throw ourselves into the river of stars, to be in His overwhelming presence again. But we can't so we lift up our voices and our songs spiral up, above the clouds into the black sky and the endless light beyond.

Intervention

Let's go over this again because some of you didn't get the message:

I think it's time we have this out. I've tried to be nice about it, tried to avoid the subject, tried to be a peacemaker, but there comes a point where I have to make a stand: onions should be cooked until they are caramelized. Always. Soups, burgers, you name it.

I know you might feel differently. You might like them raw chopped up in your salad or in thick slices on your cheeseburger. God love you, you're wrong.

Now, this isn't a huge sin; you will still get into Heaven--I think--but it's important you understand how wrong it is. It's a gateway vegetable, and soon you will be mainlining raw turnips if you don't stop right now.

There. I've said it. I'm sorry if it hurts you, but sometimes people who love you--and I mostly tolerate you, which is in the same city as love if not the same neighborhood--have to step in and save you from you.

The trees in the forest

How are you today? I've been busy the past several days finishing a project that's several weeks behind! The process is not necessarily hard, but it's long and somewhat complicated. Well, not really complicated, but lots of steps to do in order. No step is particularly hard, but they have to be done in order, and they all have to be done. Maybe it is complicated.

Things often are when you look at a whole project rather than breaking it into steps. Looking at the forest can keep you from seeing the trees. And vice versa, of course.

Many people claim that seeing the forest is more important than seeing the trees, forgetting that the trees as a group are the forest. You can lose one tree, obviously, and still have a forest, but how many can you lose before the forest is no more? One tree is not a forest. Nor is two or three or even 10. How about 100? 300? 1,000? There's not a true definition of a forest. We simply know one when we see one.

That brings us back to the importance of a single tree. If you lose enough single trees, then you don't have a forest anymore. So every tree has to be important because, without it, the forest is diminished. Always beware of someone who is willing to sacrifice a tree or two for the sake of the forest. They're ignoring what a forest truly is.

And no, I'm not really talking about trees. I'm actually talking about government and how politicians sacrifice individuals--us--to benefit the greater public, even though each of us actually is a part of that "public."

Politicians talk about making the hard decisions, but have you ever noticed their hard decisions never impact them? They hold themselves apart. They're not part of the public. They're the overseers, the rulers--the sacrificers, never the sacrifices.

Make no mistake about this: If you're a Republican or Democrat or any other political party, you're supporting people who will claim--with pride--that they can make the hard decisions for us, that they know better than the individual, that sacrifice is necessary for the greater good.

They're protecting the forest, you see? The forest is more important than a tree, right? And it's only after a forest is clear cut that people realize something vital has been lost. Fortunately, at that point, our overseers will exhort the values of an empty land. We are so lucky.

Aren't we?

Time Enough?

If you say you haven't had time to do something, then it's because you don't want to do it.

Is that true?

In the short term--say over a few days--no. You can literally have no time due to prior commitments. There is only so much you can get done in one day.

But over longer periods of time--say a month or two--yes. If you can't find time in a month or so, it's because you didn't want to do the request in the first place.

Of course, this depends on the request. We're not talking about building bridges or putting up a house. We're talking about those day-to-day requests that are asked of us by our church, civic clubs, the PTA, etc.

I've always held the belief that you make time for the things that are important to you. And if you don't, then they weren't really that important or they were less important than what you put before them. I've had several friends divorce because the wife felt that the husband put his job before her and their children. Although their husbands would deny it, it was true. We put our time where we want to put our time.

Of course, there are a thousand exceptions to any supposed absolute, but I think there is a disturbing truth here. We make time for what is important to us.

Do you want to disagree? I know I do. I don't like where this line of thought leads me. For instance, I claim to be a Christian, but how much time do I spend in sharing the message of Christianity? I claim that I want to be a full-time writer, but how much time do I invest in writing, in sending out stories and articles, and in attempting to get my writing published? I claim that my family and friends are important to me, but how much time do I spend talking to them, helping them, and being with them? Where, truly, are my priorities?

Our life is the only thing that truly belongs to us. How we live it is where our priority is. We may give lip service to lofty goals and soaring dreams, but what we actually do is the truth.
If someone looked at our lives without being able to hear our explanations for our actions, what would they think were our top priorities?

It's a balancing act, of course. We have families, and families need food, clothing, and shelter so we work our jobs to raise the money to provide those things to our families--even though that means we have to spend a lot of time away from those we love. Churches need our tithes to carry out their ministries, and to have those tithes to give, we need our jobs even though those jobs limit the time we can work in soup kitchens and visit the sick. And so on. When we spend our time in one area, that time is lost to another.

Those are the limitations of this life. We can't do it all so we have to choose and pick what we can do. And we have to try to choose wisely because this is the only life we have down here. It's a sobering thought. But it's also part of what makes life so interesting and so complicated. I don't think I'd have it any other way...unless I could clone me or live several hundred years. Then let's talk.

In praise of doubt

Doubt has a bad name in our world. We expect people to be certain in their opinions and beliefs. We might disagree with their certainty, but we still say things like "We respect your position."

What a bunch of crap. What we don't need in this world is more certainty. We need more doubt.

Certainty that they're going to get 40 virgins helps fuel suicide bombers.

Certainty that the world can survive whatever man does to it keeps companies polluting and keeps gasoline hogging vehicles on the road.

Certainty that we're no different from the animals keeps the abortion clinics full.

Certainty that homosexuality is abhorrent gives people a nice warm, feeling as they beat gays to death.

Certainty that God never intended for the races to mingle and marry keeps us from feeling guilty as we shun them in church and talk privately about "those kind of people."

Certainty that we're right and everyone else is wrong allows us to talk about "godless liberals" and "lying conservatives" on our social media.

Certainty that our denomination is the only path to God allows us to preach against other faiths and even kill their followers if we have to.

Certainty that oil and natural gas will last forever keeps pushing the problem of diminishing resources onto our children and their children.

Certainty that the other guy is out to get us gives us permission to get him first and feel justified.

Certainty that it's better to mind our own business than get involved lets child abusers and spouse beaters continue their destruction of innocence.

Certainty that we deserve more just because of who we are rather than realizing that "there but for the grace of God go we" keeps people homeless, keeps families in poverty, keeps kids starving, keeps people dying.

Certainty that we can't change anything--that one person's effort means nothing in the face of the overwhelming problems--makes our recliners feel especially nice as we numb our brains with sex and violence on TV.

Certainty that old dogs can't learn new tricks means that we stop learning new things, we stop challenging ourselves, and we hang onto society like ticks.

I don't know about you, but I could do with more doubt in the world. We need more humility and searching, more praying and working, more striving to be better people ourselves instead of rushing around trying to remove the motes from other people's eyes while ignoring the beam in ours.

Doubt has had a bad name since the days of Thomas, but it needs to be recognized for what it is and what it's meant to be. It's meant to temper us, to give us pause, to make us wonder, to make us search, to make us strive to be better.

I'm tired of blind, unquestioning faith. I want some sighted, searching faith. I want to shake the hand of a minister, preacher, deacon, rabbi, guru, school administrator, banker, bishop, representative, senator, president, and feel the calluses that only hard work and hard-won faith can bring.

We're probably not going to get any of this, but I'm certain the world needs it.

The Mystery of Saint Etienne

Several years back, I worked on a book titled The Mystery of Saint Etienne. I never finished it. It was a book of prosetry; in other words, a book that used the techniques of poetry to tell a story in prose. I was inspired by the works of Calvin Miller, particularly The Song and The Singer, a retelling of Christ's story in an alternative reality. Great books.

Anyway, here's an excerpt from my unfinished book. It seemed fitting for these times.

From The Mystery of Saint Etienne

Between reason and faith, we make our way through a hard world with edges sharp enough to wound the unwary. Oh Lord guide our steps.
Faith is what we hold, a lamp to light our way and to let blind eyes see. Oh Lord let Your light shine on us.
Between what is and what should be, we are stretched, a cord between two black horses. Oh Lord send to us Your mercy.
Heaven is our hope in this world without hope. Oh Lord may we bring hope as You brought hope unto us.
Between the precipice and the fall, we take faltering steps, children lost in the dark woods. Oh Lord give us a lodestone that points to You.
Here we stand unclean in our souls and dark of hearts. Oh Lord send to us Your cleansing rain.
Oh Lord we are fallen but You lift us up.
Oh Lord we are scattered but You gather us.
Oh Lord we are unworthy but You take us.
We raise hands to You, a thousand thousand tongues give unto You praise, and the rocks and hills and dales resound with voices that cry,
Hosanna,
Hosanna,
Hosanna.

Ships

I was talking to a friend of mine yesterday. She's still searching for that one, the man who will know and love her.

"He's out there," she said. "Somewhere. And he's looking for me, too, even if he doesn't know it. I've got to hold on until I meet him. Then it will be...wonderful."

"I hope so," I said, thinking that she was waiting for her life to begin, but that was her choice, and hadn't we had this conversation a thousand times before? I wasn't the one for her. I was just her friend. That's what she wanted from me.

I was talking to a friend of mine in Tulsa last week. He needs to get married, he says. He's so lonely. Somewhere there's a woman for him, he says. He's got to keep searching.

"Good luck," I said, thinking of the many times he had told me of his fruitless search and how he could fill his life with so many things. But I didn't say anything. I'm his friend. I support him even if his quest never ends.

Another person would have matched them up. Would have thought that fate was bringing them together, but I know better. I introduced them at a party a few years back. I thought maybe some sparks would fly. I even questioned them about the meeting later.

"Too old," she said. "Too plump," he said.

"Too out of shape," she said. "Too much make-up," he said.

"Too intellectual," she said. "Too young," he said.

And so they go on, ships that pass deliberately in the night.

Remember

I will not take these for granted:

A cup of coffee. I felt the morning sunshine on my face like a blessing.

My computer. It gives me problems sometimes, but it keeps plugging along, outdated as it is. It helps me write and be creative in ways I couldn't have imagined when I was a kid pounding away on a Smith-Corona.

A roof over my head. It's a modest house, it needs painting inside some repairs, but many people would love to have it. Many people have nothing at all between them and the bitter winds and the burning sun.

Food on my table. Millions of men and women, millions of children struggle with starvation. Truly I live in a land of plenty.

My country. It isn't perfect, but it's the best that humanity has ever been able to produce. I'm not one to throw out the baby with the bathwater. We'll fix the problems. We'll continue to grow and change and get better. That's what we do.

My dear friends. A close second to my family in my affections. I appreciate the laughter and talks about life, politics, and everything else.

My precious family. In the end, they're the people I love the most and who count on me and on whom I depend. We've been together a long time, and God willing, have many more years to go.

My personal salvation. I don't preach to people. I'm not built that way. But it would be a mistake to assume that my silence meant that I didn't take my spiritual life seriously. I hope that people can see by my life and by how I live that there's something more to this life, that we aren't alone by any means, and that even the smallest of us matter in this vast universe. I know I fail in this daily, but the struggle makes life worthwhile.

Every now and then, I have to remind myself to not take these things for granted.

Posting today

This is why I had to post today:

Today I wasn't going to post because I was feeling down. I've been thinking about how easy it is for us to be cruel to each other and wondering why that is so.

Don't think that I'm going to go and on about how worthless humanity is, because I'm not. We're the best and brightest to come along so far, and we do some pretty amazing things. We also do some really stupid things. I've been wondering lately how is that going to balance out. When will we tip the scale toward the light finally and permanently?

A lot of people believe we won't get better. That eventually we will get so bad that the world will have to be destroyed in fire. They back this up with a lot of Biblical scholarship. I think that it would be sad. I find many good things in this world; I'd hate to think of them fading into that long night. But that's me in a nutshell. I'm always hopeful, but I plan for the worst. I do not hunger for apocalypse, and I worry about the people who do.

Anyway, considering how hard this world is, how many burdens we all carry, you'd think we'd try to be kinder to each other, even to those who have opinions and lifestyles of which we disapprove. But we're not. We shout at each other, we post terrible things about each other, we attack beliefs, faiths, lifestyles, politics, their very lives. And we give no quarter and take no prisoners. We smile when the other guys are hurt or humiliated. Because we know we're right, we don't feel pity. Just contempt.

Are we so small? If that is all we are, then bring on the fire. Let it all be swept away. I'll strike the match.

But...

Then I think of other things.

Like my babies, some of whom have grown up and are having babies of their own.

Like my siblings, who have traveled this wild road with me so far.

Like my friends, some of whom have known me for more than 40 years now, and we're still close.

And you, my social media buddies. Those folks whom I've never met in "real" life, but still care about me and are cared about by me.

And all those people out there working to make the world a better place in hospitals, soup kitchens, homeless shelters, schools, homes, churches, small towns, and large cities, all those keeping themselves above water and helping others stay afloat.

And finally, the God I serve, a God of hope, a God of joy, a God who enjoys a good joke and maybe a Dr Pepper every now and then between creating universes. The Big Table God who has a place for everyone. A God that is my friend however unworthy I am.

We are blessed. And it's still a pretty good world. So let's not have that fire just yet.

That's what I wanted to say and why I had to post today.

Courage

When I get discouraged, which happens from time to time, I take comfort from an old poem. It is "Ulysses" by Alfred Lord Tennyson. It was written in 1833 and tells of the elderly hero Ulysses looking back at his life and deciding that he will go forth and see wonders again. It ends like this:

"Though much is taken, much abides; and though
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are,
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield."

Much abides in me, in you. This is courage unyielding. The courage we all have. Still.

The Levelers

How do they become that way? Did life sour them early? Did their parents tear them down? Do they think they were appointed by the universe to the arbiter of mankind? Do they think all the pain they inflict with their criticisms is somehow good for you? Do they really think they’re helping you?

I’ve learned to shelter my ideas and dreams from certain people. Newborn ideas are fragile things, and these people take pleasure in picking them to pieces. Or they have ways to "better" these ideas until the idea is a creaking, belching, lumbering monster that you can’t bear to work on.

I call those people The Levelers. They live tiny, self-satisfied, self-righteous lives. They can’t learn anything beyond what they know, and if you try to teach them, they will ruthlessly tear you down with no guilt. You will be told that you disappoint them, that you embarrass them, and that you are a failure in all the important things. The Levelers will pull you down to their level if you let them. They’ll push you into darkness if they can get away with it. They can’t look at the sky because they're too busy pushing people’s faces in the dirt.

You can run from them, but their words haunt you. The rotten thing is that we want the approval of our parents, siblings, friends, co-workers, and lovers. We want them to cherish us. We want them to think we’re smart, funny, bright, and attractive. We don’t need their careless cruelty, their unthinking remarks, and their unearned superior attitude. Not ever.

Eventually, The Levelers will remake you or destroy you or … or you will find that your dreams and ideas have more strength than their words and actions. You’ll draw strength from being alone and being afraid. You might even hate your vicious critics at first, and anger will propel you on for a time, but then you’ll find the dream is enough. It’s a cold existence at times, but where you’re flying, the air is always cold and pure and you can see the stars and the unknown beyond.

When you set down on earth, resting your wings for a moment, you’ll see The Levelers for tiny creatures they are. You will probably feel contempt, but if your dreams have taken you far enough, you’ll pity them. You’ll pity them for their limited horizon, bounded forever by their spite and ignorance. You’ll pity them for choosing to live in a prison of their making. But pity isn't enough for you to choose the ground, no matter how much they need you.

The horizon will call, and then you will fly away.

I don’t know if you’ll look back. But I doubt it.

Holding on and letting go

We hold onto our lives as hard as we can. Isn't it strange how we say we seek adventure, travel, and new experiences, but will do everything we can to preserve the status quo? Weird creatures we are, as Yoda would put it.

Sometimes our world gets shaken. Sometimes we are forced to confront the unknown. I'd like to think I'd face such a change with my eyes wide open, my body straining against the new wind. But too many times, I've tried to retreat. Tried to preserve what couldn't be preserved. Done it too many times with too many relationships and life situations. I know me too well.

When I was younger and quicker and harsher with my judgments, I used to think it was cowardly to not embrace change. But now that I'm older with too many sins of my own to presume to judge the sins of others and now that I've seen so many changes that definitely weren't for the better, I know that both ways take courage, stubbornness, and hope.

Made for more

It comes down to this: Every second we live is a second closer to death. Most of us prefer to not think about it since it doesn’t seem healthy to dwell on our approaching demise. A few rare (thankfully) individuals focus on death, sometimes to the extreme of choosing to commit murder or suicide or both. But most of us live our lives in the now. No one knows when they’re going to die, which allows us to make some terrible choices since we think we’re going to survive the consequences of our foolishness. Youth makes us immortal, we think.

All religions focus on death, or really the afterlife. It seems inconceivable to us that we won’t survive in some fashion, be it Heaven, Nirvana, or merging with the Cosmic Flow. To think of the earth as a staging area or a practice arena for what comes next helps many of us to find meaning in our lives. Other people choose to hedonistically live for pleasure now. “You only get one life; live it to the fullest.” A slogan that seems to be particularly popular for selling beer and sports cars.

Time overwhelms us. If you think about all those nameless people who went before us and all those who will follow us, you can feel lost in the multitudes. Few of us will achieve the fame to be remembered 100 years from now--not that such remembrance could factor into our lives now because we won’t know if we will be remembered or what we will be remembered for. The vast majority of us will not be remembered here.

You have to shy away from such knowledge, you know. You can’t live your life with eternity peering over your shoulder. The responsibility of living for the future can drain your joy now. There is a balance we should seek between now and eternity, between pleasure and responsibility, and between us and other people. “Moderation in all things,” to quote a very wise man.

Balance. There’s the rub. How to gain it. How to keep it. How to be an adult in a world that celebrates bad behavior. We’re not a society that appreciates good behavior. Bad behavior will get you on a so-called reality show. Bad behavior will get your name in the tabloids. People will know you if you have more money than sense, cheat on your lover, steal money from friends, curse to shame a sailor, and perform other egregious actions.

But we’re made for so much more. We can be a light to our friends. We can be kind to our enemies. We can leave the world a better place than we found it. We can be adult and reasonable and sane and right. Not because there will be a reward for it--because there won’t be--but because it’s the right thing to do. When we humans finally do the right thing because it’s right and not because we’re rewarded for such, then we will have finally at long last grown up.

I hope it’s soon. Don't you?

Happy July 4th!

Yes, we have problems as a nation--and what nation since the dawn of time has not?--but I'm proud to be an American, blessed to live in this diverse and amazing nation, humbled by the sacrifices of those who have given their lives to keep us free, and excited when looking forward to our future.

The naysayers and political pundits like to highlight our shortcomings, conveniently ignoring our past successes and our continuing accomplishments. We truly have changed the face of the world, and although we have made grievous mistakes, we have also been an unrelenting force in the struggle for freedom, liberty, and equality.

God has blessed us immensely, and may He continue to do so!

Hearts against the darkness

When I get too full of self-pity, I remember Brandon.

Back in December, I ran into him and his parents at Staples. They had adopted Brandon several months before. He's sweet and cute as a button with bright blue eyes and a ready grin. I was playing peek-a-boo with him, and he gurgled with laughter. He was lively as he sat in the stroller. Interested in the world and ready to explore. He also has HIV.

My friends had searched for a baby for a couple of years after they found out that they couldn't have children of their own. They prayed a lot and by chance discovered a website that talked of AIDS babies. About how these babies are born with HIV passed to them by their mothers. Many times they are also born with drug addictions because their mothers used drugs. The mothers abandon them or have them taken by the legal system. The babies are placed in various orphanages and hospitals, and then people wait for them to die.

It broke my friends' hearts to hear of the babies, and they decided one of those babies was meant by God for them. It was a hard, long, and expensive process, but Brandon arrived at the Oklahoma City airport in June to be met by his new nervous parents.

His mother told me, "As soon as I held him, I knew this was my baby. I loved him. He is mine." She nodded firmly. "He is our baby."

Brandon requires a lot of medical care. Fortunately, his new parents have been blessed with financial means. He's getting the best care there is. And he's getting such love that if love can cure, he will live a long and happy life.

This is a hard world where an innocent can suffer like this. And it is a wonderful world where people like my friends throw their hearts against the darkness. How can I think that I have problems, that my grief is overwhelming, that I am pitiful, when children like Brandon struggle to live, to grow up? I would not be worthy of breath if it didn't humble me.

What we choose

I told a friend of mine once that we all get the life we choose. I've been pondering that ever since I said it. Is it true? Do we get the life we choose? I mean, I'm not living the life I want to. Did I choose this?

The answer is a qualified yes. I did choose this life even if I didn't know I was just as other people made their choices that affected me as mine did theirs. We made the choices that led here. Not gifted with foresight, we made what we thought were good choices at the time.

No one minds dying if they think they're going to be a hero and fondly remembered. Then they get to be noble. That's easy. Instead, we wrestle with the day to day. The nothingness. The endless ritual of baths and laundry and clothes and meals and work and chores and parenting and and and and and ...

Being a hero isn't necessarily hard. Many unexpected people rise to the occasion when it's before them. But it's the everyday life that we struggle with. The endless hours. The meaningless moments that stretch until the days bury hope. The people who face the day after day are brave, too. They might not think they are, but they are.

So this is me lifting my cup to all those who struggle: to K. who hates his job but is afraid to leave; to G. who is struggling with her family and her life and losing a dream; to M. who thinks she isn't worthy and really is; to H. who's been afraid her whole life to live but still keeps trying; to K., S., and J. who are struggling with mid-life; to everyone who rolls out of bed each day and gets their kids to school and goes to work and cares for their fellow man; to the people who bring unexpected doughnuts; to all the unpublished writers who keep putting the words down on paper; to all of you, may God keep and richly bless you in all the ways that you deserve.

And maybe when He's bestowing these graces, He'll send a few my way.

Starfish

Whenever I get discouraged by the many, many, many problems in the world, I think of this story:

A little boy was on the beach after a terrible storm. Thousands of starfish had been washed up on the sandy beach. The little boy started picking starfish up one by one and throwing them back into the water.

A man watching the little boy's efforts thought, "There are so many starfish and only one little boy. He will never help them all." The man walked over to the boy and said, "Don't you know you will never make a difference? There are too many starfish washed up on the beach."

The little boy looked at the old man for a long moment. Then he picked up another starfish, threw it into the water, and said, "I made a difference to that one."

Quiet

I've been sitting out on my (newly updated) patio a lot. It's weird to do that. I am a busy person; my friends have always noted that I'm "extremely," "exhaustingly," even "horribly" busy. So this is strange for me.

I'm not writing, not planning, not marketing, not on my computer, not really thinking. Sitting out there, listening to the birds, watching the trees, swatting at the pesky mosquitoes, listening to the wind... Just being, I guess.

This won't last. A new idea will catch my interest; a new hobby will obsess me. I'm made to be busy. But for right now, it's nice...in an odd way...to sit outside under the Edison lights and listen to the fountain and experience the quiet stillness of the gathering dusk.

Music in the night

Another one of my music nights. Just listening to unfamiliar music on my computer. Unfamiliar because I haven't played the songs in months or even years. I have thousands of songs on my hard drive, so naturally, some aren't played much.

Mostly sweet, melancholy music. Violins and acoustic guitars. Quiet songs to fill up the empty places in my soul. Fill them up so nothing else can reside there.

Dan Fogelberg, Indigo Girls, Alexi Murdoch, Ed Sheeran, Rob Thomas... Talented singers with great gifts.

Do you have music nights? Or do you like your nights so still that the stars finally speak to fill the silence? Do you walk the fields at night and gaze up at the sky where the moon hangs like a ripe peach? Or do you gratefully close your eyes and fall into sleep until the sun dawns?

Whatever helps you to be filled with peace, that's what you should do. That's what I'm trying to do as I listen to a little music in the music.

Eagles

Isaiah 40

28 Hast thou not known? hast thou not heard, that the everlasting God, the LORD, the Creator of the ends of the earth, fainteth not, neither is weary? there is no searching of his understanding.

29 He giveth power to the faint; and to them that have no might he increaseth strength.

30 Even the youths shall faint and be weary, and the young men shall utterly fall:

31 But they that wait upon the LORD shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint.

Jesus loves us best

Jesus said we should love everyone...except maybe that guy...and definitely not that group over there. I mean, the very idea! Oh, and not this group. Seriously, Jesus wouldn't love them and wouldn't expect us to, either.

And it goes without saying--but I'm going to anyway--that those folks who look different are certainly not worthy of being loved or forgiven. Jesus meant all these exceptions, but they slipped His mind what with all the healing and preaching and stuff.

Fortunately, He has us to shore up the cracks. If He didn't have us to condemn those who believe differently and live differently than us, who knows what kind of riff-raff would get into Heaven? I'm sure He appreciates our efforts. After all, He loves us best.

Doesn't He?

Decision

I have decided--after long consideration and much soul searching and consulting with learned oracles--that I can't care about everything. Or even most things. It appears my care well is nearly dry, and thus I must conserve the precious care for things I actually do care about: my family, my friends, my community, my state, my nation...

That list still feels large, but it allows me to not care about other people's stances on statues, their impassioned pleas about movies and TV shows, their desperate defense of...cartoons, God help us.

Mind you, I think I may get more of this since I have friends all over the political spectrum from the far right to the far left and plenty in the middle. Sometimes my Facebook Timeline and Twitter Feed feel quite schizophrenic as the memes go from deifying President Trump to condemning him to the fieriest hell; from Black Lives Matter to Blue Lives Matter to All Lives Matter to LGBTQ Lives Matter; from COVID bubble buddies to COVID conspiracy theorists.

This is my fault, I guess. People who are good to me are my friends whatever their beliefs are and as long as they allow me to have mine. It's easy to be my friend as long as you're good to me. I don't require anything else.

But y'all are making me tired. You are so mean to people who hold different beliefs than you do. It's dismaying and discouraging. What I want from you, what I really, really, really want (Spice Girls reference!) is for y'all to treat each other the way you treat me. That would be awesome. It might help to remember that those labels you toss around--Republican, Democrat, Christian, Jew, gay, straight, etc.--all have real people behind them. People who struggle with this broken world just the way you do.

Anyway, see what you can do, okay? And remember, one day we will rise to greet a new dawn...together.

Cultivate our garden

I think work is good for us. It gives us purpose. It gives us a label. It gives us self-respect. When I was younger, I thought I couldn't wait until I couldn't work anymore. But when work ended, when my retirement was forced on me by health reasons, I realized that work was a blessing. It might be hard and frustrating--it often was--but now I realize what joy was in it, too. The routine, the challenges, the day-to-day of it all...it helped keep me going. Kept me young.

The world sells this picture of leisure as what we should be striving for, but work gives that leisure meaning. I'm not saying we should stay at a job where our soul is crushed, but it's that job that is bad. Work itself is a noble thing; it is a proud thing. We were made to work so that our times when we don't work are made more enjoyable by the contrast.

Of course, I'm not the first person to realize this and won't be the last.

The following is from the novel Candide, ou l'Optimisme known in English as Candide written by Voltaire (François-Marie Arouet) and published in 1759:

“I know also,” said Candide, “that we must cultivate our garden.”

“You are right,” said Pangloss, “for when man was first placed in the Garden of Eden, he was put there ut operaretur eum, that he might cultivate it; which shows that man was not born to be idle.”

“Let us work,” said Martin, “without disputing; it is the only way to render life tolerable.”

The whole little society entered into this laudable design, according to their different abilities. Their little plot of land produced plentiful crops. Cunegonde...became an excellent pastry cook; Paquette worked at embroidery; the old woman looked after the linen. ...Friar Giroflée...made a good joiner, and became a very honest man.

Pangloss sometimes said to Candide: “There is a concatenation of events in this best of all possible worlds: for if you had not been kicked out of a magnificent castle for love of Miss Cunegonde: if you had not been put into the Inquisition: if you had not walked over America: if you had not stabbed the Baron: if you had not lost all your sheep from the fine country of El Dorado: you would not be here eating preserved citrons and pistachio-nuts.”

“All that is very well,” answered Candide, “but let us cultivate our garden.”

-- End --

So let us cultivate our garden, my friends, as best we can.

From "A Meditation on (Barely) Walking"

Recently, I tried those compression walking shorts that supposedly help your muscles stay relaxed and energized. I felt and looked like a bratwurst sausage.

There was a physics problem of trying to place too much of me into too little of the shorts. I couldn't solve it and was only able to remove the garment with the aid of WD-40. At least the fire department didn't have to cut me out of them.

Again.

(Excerpted from the forthcoming book Floozy Goes Forth, copyright 2020. All rights reserved.)

Lies & More Lies

There's a certain logic behind some lies. By that, I mean a person who lies for advancement or profit or protection has an understandable motive. You may disapprove, but you can understand why the person lied. Perhaps even in certain situations be willing to lie yourself for whatever reason you deem sufficient.

But what about someone who just lies all the time? Lies as easily as talking. Lies upon lies. So many that you begin to wonder if the person really knows what the truth is. Pathological lying. So many lies that the person can't keep them straight, and neither can anyone else. And the motives are unfathomable by anyone, perhaps even by the person telling them.

In times past, people would say a "lying spirit" had taken the person. That the person had lost hold on reality. That they had gone mad. Such people would be put away quietly to be studied by doctors and professors.

These days, we elect them to Congress.

Forest for the Trees

How are you this Friday? I've been busy the past several days finishing a monthly newsletter that's a month behind! The process is not necessarily hard, but it's long and somewhat complicated. Well, not really complicated, but...lots of steps to do in order. No step is particularly hard, but they have to be done in order, and they all have to be done. Maybe it is complicated.

Things often are when you look at a whole project rather than breaking it into steps. Looking at the forest can keep you from seeing the trees. And vice versa, of course.

Many people claim that seeing the forest is more important than seeing the trees, forgetting that the trees as a group are the forest. You can lose one tree, obviously, and still have a forest, but how many can you lose before the forest is no more? One tree is not a forest. Nor is two or three or even 10. How about 100? 300? 1,000? There's not a true definition of a forest. We simply know one when we see one.

That brings us back to the importance of a single tree. If you lose enough single trees, then you don't have a forest anymore. So every tree has to be important because, without it, the forest is diminished. Always beware of someone who is willing to sacrifice a tree or two for the sake of the forest. They're ignoring what a forest truly is.

And no, I'm not really talking about trees. I'm actually talking about government and how politicians sacrifice individuals--us--to benefit the greater public, even though each of us actually is a part of that "public."

Politicians talk about making the hard decisions, but have you ever noticed their hard decisions never impact them? They hold themselves apart. They're not part of the public. They're the overseers, the rulers--the sacrificers, never the sacrifices.

Make no mistake about this: If you're a Republican or Democrat or any other political party, you're supporting people who will claim--with pride--that they can make the hard decisions for us, that they know better than the individual, that sacrifice is necessary for the greater good.

They're protecting the forest, you see? The forest is more important than a tree, right? And it's only after a forest is clear cut that people realize something vital has been lost. Fortunately, at that point, our overseers will exhort the values of an empty land. We are so lucky.

Aren't we?

A Quickening of the Winds

I wrote a column today that I'm quite proud of. Not that I haven't written better ones with more laughs. No, it's because I wrote it when I didn't feel like I could. It's nearly a month overdue so today I planted myself in my chair and told me to write anything as long as I filled up that space. And I did. All the recent stress has taken the wind out of my sails, but today I felt a breeze.