Too Late to Apologize

When does one encounter or administer the so called "point of no return?" Who decided the date of expiration on milk, relationships, and retail store returns? It seems as though nothing in our world is built to last anymore. We are surely born and cultivated into a 5 second and self-destruct-civilization where an oil change lasts longer than a marriage and a banana ripens at a pace slower than a credit card balance. We want it now, we want it faster than yesterday and I almost forgot, there are no other lives to fry (or fish, same thing right?) . Slow does not exist. Nor does stagnant, inactive, gradual, moderate, dilatory or overdue. The only real alternative to urgent satisfaction is death. Death to the assurance of undecayed milk. Death to the exchange of an oversized bed sheet. Death to the relationship whose days were always numbered and whose participants decided to terminate upon insufficient turbulance. Death to endurance and death to true love. You may deem death as being quite biased and absolute and I believe you are notably accurate. Aren't you the one who throws the milk out when it is sour? Aren't you the one who re-gifts the sheets that never fit? Aren't you the one who can't forgive?

Nothing lasts because if it did we would cease to be egocentric and envious. It is more urgent to please a crowd of blue-blooded strangers than to re-kindle a suffering flame. An old relationship is just as easy to throw away as sour milk.

The Weatherman

The Weatherman said it was supposed to rain today. He gave it an exact 80% chance of showers. That leaves me with a remaining 20% contingent that it won't. As I watch him point at fronts, refer to dopplers, and fumble with his clicky thing I wonder... "how does God feel about the Weatherman?" "Does he praise him for his efforts or applaud him for his humor?"

There seems to be a mutual, underground feeling of mistrust coupled with our view of him who reports atmospheric conditions. He says 80% and we see the sun shining. He says 10% and the rain pelts our newly washed car. Percentages and promises-what would our morning be without them? There is even a website called "Accuweather.com!" I was sitting in my car, watching the rain attack the pavement as "Accuweather" showed 75 Degrees and cloudy...must be a Weatherman on the other end. I'm not saying they aren't trying, I'm just wondering how often God messes with the thermostat just to throw these guys off. 

One Nation Under...

On a brisk and lustrous morning in 1986 a preschooler attended class in a rural, American town. His thoughts were on Cheetos, chattering chimps and a hundred characters he could be. He didn't look at the clock. He didn't slave for a grade. He forgot to tie his shoes. He didn't consider the peddling of U.S. munitions to Iran. And Chernobyl sounded like a vegetable that he definitely didn't want to eat. 

No, these were innocent times for the boy living in a rural, American town. Times of peace and times of joy.

Some might say he was "ignorant" in his youth. Others might gossip, "benighted." But I say he saw the clearest of us all as he stood for his morning pledge. The snacks aside and the music turned low, the hum of the class hushed to a mark above mute. He wiped his hands on his brown corduroys and left the cheesy residue clinging in the ridges. He stood beside his chair even smaller than he, and didn't just stand but stood tall. Gently placing his now tidy hand on a worn-down T-shirt, he quietly lifted his head and fixed his unadulterated eyes to heights he would always dream of reaching. Perfectly centered in the white-bricked room, hung an image of honor and hope. Not in a corner abandoned and cloaked but equidistantly placed for all to behold and revere. Not lost, not forgotten, not forsaken. When this time came the atmosphere changed from a rapid pace to a reverent pause. He knew what to do, he knew his surmise and he uttered the words with great pride: 

"I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America and to the republic for which it stands, one nation under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all."

Perhaps he was just young and ignorant. Perhaps he didn't grasp the animosity slowly pushing its way across the country.  It could have been a common, American case of elective blindness. The answer depends on whether or not the truth lies in the act or whether it remains concealed to the interior of the heart? Has the truth turned against us? Have we forgotten and turned against truth? Is God truth? Have we forgotten God? Have we turned against Him? Where is this boy we speak of? Where are his neighbors? 

They are dying or dead, that's where they are. Dying like faith in God and hope for country. Dying like friendship and honesty. Decaying with corruption, greed and selfishness. Rotting with deceit, war, hunger and abortion. Ebbing the ever darkening lines of conscience from what is right to what is acceptable and from what is acceptable to what is desired. The darkened desires pull the blanket of blindness over the eyes of anyone willing to sleep with the devil. The devil has many a guest in his house of pleasure, apparent freedom and rapid wealth. 

Where will you stand today? What pledge will you give? What God will you follow? The God of sorrow, delusion, fear, remorse, sin, weakness, guilt, affliction and obscurity? Or the God of love, truth, honor, faith, clarity, forgiveness, charity, justice, peace, mercy and perfection? 

As for the boy....he believes that this God of mercy still exists. He knows that the armies of goodness outnumber the incumbents of evil. He trusts that this nation will once again be united "under God." He begs for us to remember the pledge we made as children in classrooms across America, hand over heart, eyes raised to the heavens, hope spilling from our lips, faith spilling from our souls. 

I break allegiance to the plague of the Divided States of America and to the Socialists by which it fails, abomination before God, not invisible, with poverty and malice for all.

My pledge is to God, to my family and to my nation. Not to those who "govern" it.

The Epitome of Man

The Squirrel: A small to medium-sized rodent with the ability to mock from the heights of a common pine. Inches away from reach but miles away from sanity. They scamper half-way up the rear of the timber presupposing their common route indecipherable. Then, ever so carefully peeking out from behind it's mass, they investigate the alien life form and stare awkwardly; utilizing their amateur, camouflaging adroitness. A squirrel is no more than a breathing tree ornament. Not squatting long enough to be adored and failing to perform more than a parlor trick with a nut, avoiding any prospect of preserving interest. Scampering from one leafy dwelling to the next and conclusively ignoring any responsibility to the latter. 

Is it surmisable then, that squirrels epitomize the man? 

Leaves of Grass

And these one and all tend inward to me, and I tend outward to them, 

And such as it is to be of these more or less I am.

I am of old and young, of the foolish as much as the wise...

Stuffed with the stuff that is coarse and stuffed with the stuff that is fine.

Walt Whitman