Woodpile

To be the man in this wicked land underhanded hits are planned

Scams are plotted over grams and rocks

Undercover agents die by the random shots

We all die in the end, so revenge we swore

I was all about my  ends, forget friends and foes.

Tupac Shakur

The most wonderful mystery in the mind of man; that God chose me. Most people attempt to live with what they are given. The believer, rejoicing in the fact that he was drawn by God. "No one can come to me unless the Father who sent Me draws him; and I will raise him up on the last day" (John, 6:44). In the stops and starts, the sometimes dreary routine of living, you sometimes try to go back to your dreams, but that door has been closed forever. We cling to certain visuals, there are images in the mind that cannot be erased. There is no eraser powerful enough to erase the image of your own mother devoured by cancer. There is no eraser powerful enough to cleanse from your mind the horrors of war, hearing the screams of burn victims in an army hospital. Treating, there is never a cure. Our fellow human beings, tricked by the medicine bottle, always found in a state of self induced stupor. Dr. Welch of the Dartmouth Medical School has written a book, Less Medicine, More Health. Why do people seek a early rigormortis, slow death by chemicals? Why are people not more careful about what they put in their mouth? I knew two old doctors, Dr. Stenhouse, Dr. Strosneider, who prescribed food for sickness. It was a rare thing for them to prescribe a chemical.

The survival of our early American ancestors was as dependent on common sense as today's tech savvy Americans who are depending on nano-equations. My grandparents, and that was a little more than a hundred years ago, remembered when electric power first came to cities. I was very young when electric power came into the countryside. Before electric power lines, gas lines, everyone depended on wood for heating-cooking. The woodpile was as dependable for survival, as today's WalMart Grocery store. Just as shelves in stores must be replenished, so the woodpile must be replenished. You could not just take away without sometime putting back. When we learn this in other things... we cannot deplete the soil, deplete our bodies, even deplete our education system.

We all know the comfort zones of relationships. We want relationships with our fellow man, even with God, when it is convenient. We particularly want a "bell boy" type relationship with God, just calling on Him when we need Him. Before everyone had a telephone to their head, even before everyone had a telephone in their house, neighbors-family members could just drop by. Life activity was not a matter of scheduling, a matter of convenience.

It is not just God who understands the fraud of convenience... pretending people. I will never understand church members with an IQ above room temperature, who are always late for a worship service. We live in a world of pretending, accepting the fraud of visual comfort, impressing others. Every lawyer has offices with bookshelves filled with books which he has never read. Most teachers have offices and houses filled with unread books. The public is comfortable in a setting of "supposed" knowledge, impressed by college degrees. This applies even in the process of charity. Oh, the conniving of the giving comfort of pretentions (It makes one feel good to give, not knowing where the funds are used). The "do gooder" organizations, even the huge ones (heart, cancer, diabetes, alumni, scouts, clubs) all use a slice of their gifts, but most of the money given is conjured into the lifestyles of their officials. The President of the American Red Cross, United Way, scouting, denomination officials get salaries beyond comprehension. I tire of hearing televangelists plea for funds, even talk about their hard lives. Yet, all these preachers of the Gospel have family members (usually sons) inheriting their status. Just think of it, Billy Graham's family (Franklin makes 2 million a year), Pat Robertson, President of the 700 Club (son Gordon), Jimmy Swaggart, Worship Center (son Donnie), the Schoolers, the Bakers, etc., etc. And then the extortionists in the business-banking world. It is not necessary to talk about politicians. The real heroes of the world are the real men and women who are brave enough to raise children. The American family, indeed families around the world, are on life support. The hardworking, God fearing, taxpaying citizen is in need of encouragement. HIS WOODPILE NEEDS REPLENISHING.

Since this writer has been blind most of his life, I have never had the enjoyment of boating, flying, fishing, golfing. My tax dollars, used for parks, concert halls, bike paths are not used by me. And, much to my sorrow, I must report to you that the disabled are not welcomed at the church house anymore than they are welcomed at the clubhouse. It is obvious that the disabled-disenfranchised cannot impress anyone. Everyone can see our warts. We are the walking wounded, unless in a wheelchair or bed ridden.

We certainly do not impress God, to the real believer, he knows everything... even counts the hairs on your head (Luke, 12:7). I have outlived my friends, family members, associates, so eager to flatter themselves by the clubs to which they belong, the doctors and lawyers who they visited, even the restaurants where they ate (often embarrassing everyone around them with their demands on the wait staff). I will admit, I had a wife who could not boil water, but had culinary taste buds in a restaurant. God help us to replenish the woodpile with real people, unabashed, unashamed in the realities, not the pretentions of living... usually called honesty, truthfulness.