The Biggest Battle

(Finally finished this thought from our trip to Gettysburg last April 2, 2018)

Walking through the grounds of Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, on a cold day in April, I read inscriptions on monuments about blood-puddled ground, rocks slippery with blood, and bodies of men and horses everywhere, dead or wounded.  Like at Little Round Top, where about 330 men were told “to hold at all hazards”–and they did, even after they ran out of bullets; and the 1st Minnesota, 262 men, fighting until only 47 remained when help arrived; and of course, Pickett’s regiment was wiped out.  I cried often, walking among all the graves.

Beyond this very real history, though, I kept thinking that this horrible battle was nothing compared to Satan’s forces against me and you, right now.  He uses all the canons (government, wars, invaders); snipers from the hills and trees (luxuries, hobbies, laziness), and the screaming hordes with all their rifles and bayonets (TV, News, work, school, tragedies, health).  I sometimes see the fallen around me among spiritual blood and gore, splattered everywhere, and think…do I run?  General Jesus says, “No, stand firm and defend your soul and your right to go to Heaven at all hazards!”  I sigh.  This is where real bravery, commitment, and trust come into play.

But Not Here

A conglomerate of wild flowers desperately guards the normally exciting, noisy stream

Large and small flowers, bushy, grassy, single stemmed, all drown the senses with amazing colors, all lean over the stream, embracing it for themselves, choking, slowing down the lively gush

Streams must pass and that is life

Desperately hoarding the lively, babbling water or a life’s running course only creates dammed up, silent, stagnate pools fit only for unwanted things

Streams must pass and that is life

The selfish plant life must be trimmed back, allowing the happy creek to bubble and babble on its way to God knows where…but not here

The selfish refusal to let go must be trimmed back to allow an aged father, who used to be a lively, bubbly human life, to flow on to God knows where…

but not here

From a beautiful but sad morning walk August 31st, 2017… I can’t stop my loved ones from flowing around the next bend and the next, any more than they can stop me.  That’s what makes streams and creeks so beautiful to us.  Enjoy the music of life while you’re in the presence of the magnificent rush…

Help Rescue

Saw an ad this morning from the ASPCA, with a sweet kitten wearing a collar protector, sporting the logo, “Help rescue animals.”

Have you ever seen any ads that say, “Help rescue (your own country’s) children,” or “Help rescue (your own country’s) adults”? I think that rescue missions for the homeless should have ads like that, and orphanages, and so on. Oh and how about rescuing American souls from the clutches of Satan?

Oh, and…wait…why would I even need to see ads; why would I need to be prompted by pathetic photos of the lost before I start helping? Wow, maybe I’m the one who needs to be rescued—from the lack of interest for the hurting, and from needing to be pushed to help. Ouch.

TR