The Rescue

The rescue started out like a scene from one of the many action films. A Special Forces Team getting ready to free some long missed but not forgotten prisoners of war. The time came and everything went according to the plan with only a couple of minor injuries.

What happened next surprised everyone, including myself. You see I was one of the prisoners. I’ve been a prisoner for more years than I care to remember. How I was captured is no longer important, but I can tell you I was a large in charge kind of guy. Not only was I physically large, some might say fat, but never to my face. I was loud, and more then borderline obnoxious.

I used to think I was invincible, and I would never get caught, and even after I was, I boldly told myself and anyone who would listen, no prison could hold me. After all of the years stuck in the hole, I can honestly say my spirit was never broken, but it was tamed.

Shortly after I was captured, I got to witness with my fellow prisoners a new young officer being put in charge of the prison. Not being able to understand what was being said, I became bored, and began looking around for some way to escape. This is when I first noticed Ben. He had his head down with his eyes shut, and tears streaming down his face.

I slowly worked my way over to him, and whispered into his ear, “We’ll be O.K. to be strong, and soon we will be back with our families.”
He turned to me with a puzzled look and said, “All of my family is with God. I don’t want to see them until my work here is done. I don’t cry for them or myself. I cry for the new Commander. He is a prisoner here as we are with one exception, he has no hope of ever being rescued. We do.”

I thought the poor guy had lost his mind. He had been here to long, and suffered too many fevers.

The new Commander was quick to implement changes. All military prisoners were to be separated. We were stuffed in small cages just big enough for one, with another prisoner. I was put in with Ben. Everyone was interviewed at least once a day. Most people would call the interviews something else, but it no longer matters. The Commander was present at most of them, never showing emotion, or participating.
After a while I was starting to wonder how much more I could take, and was amazed by Ben. He would come back beat up, and smiling. I finally asked him why? Were they shooting him up with drugs?

“No. I got another chance to tell them about Jesus. When I get back here still alive, I rejoice, for I will get another chance to tell them about Jesus. I have also seen they have been listening. The blows are with less conviction, and the Commander hasn’t missed one interview in over a month.”
I never believed in that religious mumbo jumbo, but with no one else to talk with and never finding any chance to escape, we started to talk. I asked straight forward questions, like why did bad things happen, pointing out our current situation. He simply answered back with a question.

“If you were not here, do you think you would ever had given a thought about God?”

I thought about it for a few days, and had to admit I wouldn’t have thought about God. I than asked him why he was here? He answer was simple.

“Someone needed to be here to teach you about God, and I am just his humble servant.”
I watched his body get weaker with time like mine, but I could honestly see the joy in his eyes. Finally at the end of my rope, deeply depressed, wishing I could die, I asked him if he could tell me how I might find just an ounce of the joy he had. I still remember his words to me.

“The only thing you need to do is confess your sins to Jesus, and except him as your savior.”

I told him it was too simple for me to understand, which made him laugh.
He drew a picture in the dirt of a big valley with me on one side and God on the other. He told me the valley represented my sins which separated me from God who is sinless. To be separated from the Creator of all things is to be living in hell.
Looking around I couldn’t imagine hell being much worse than this, but Ben assured me that it was, for here was only temporary. Here we will either be rescued, which I was having serious doubts about, or we would die, but when we die we no longer have the chance to except Jesus as our savior.

He then drew a cross with it bridging the gap over the valley between God and Me. By confessing, and placing my sins with Jesus, God’s only son, completely sinless, who died out of love on the cross for us, a bridge is forged between God and myself. A bridge that could never be destroyed.

I studied the picture for the longest time, finding it hard to believe how simple it was, but it made perfect sense. I slept on it, and by the next morning I woke with a sense of urgency. I found I believed Ben, and the question, ‘What are you waiting for?’ kept going through my head.

I bowed my head and prayed to God for the first time in my life, and the more I confessed my sins to him, the lighter my heart began to feel. By the time I was done, I felt free for the first time in my life, and found more than the ounce of joy I was looking for.

I opened my eyes to see the sun was up, and Ben watching me, grinning from ear to ear.

“We are now Brothers with a bond stronger then blood, for our bond is through the blood of Christ.”

The days with Ben passed quickly with him teaching me everything he could remember from his study of the Bible. They were happy days. My daily interviews became joyful, not pleasant, but joyful, for I took every opportunity I could to talk about Jesus.

After a while a fever took Ben, but even though I missed his teaching and companionship, I was joyful, for I knew he had done God’s will, and saved me. I am thankful, and look forward to seeing him again.

The Commander sat in on all of my interviews, and after a while it ended up being just the two of us. He never spoke to me, just listened. The interviews became less frequent, and finally stopped. I never knew until today if he understood what I was saying.
After we were all freed and back at the base airport waiting for our plane home, I noted the Commander was one of the prisoners the Special Forces had captured. I was finally able to convince one of the guards to let me talk with the commander in private.

With the guard standing in one corner of the room, and the Commander across the table from me, I said, “I want to thank you for all you did for me. I can’t say I enjoyed it, but none the less I am grateful for the results.”

The Commander stayed quiet, but I could see the puzzle in his eyes.

“When I arrived, I was fat and overweight, not only physically, but mentally, and spiritually I was dead. Now I am lean and strong mentally. Maybe a little to lean physically, but spiritually I am alive! You humbled me, and that I am most thankful for.”

I extended my right hand to his still in handcuffs. To my surprise, he shook my hand and held onto it for the longest of time. I looked at him puzzled, and noticed a tear in his eye, and he spoke to me for the first time.
“If you can forgive me brother, I would like to ask one favor.”

With tears now in my eyes, I realized he had listened to all I had said, and we were now brothers in Christ.

“Of course.”

“Could I have a Bible?”

I looked to the guard, who simply shrugged, and said I would have to talk with the base Chaplin, to which I responded, now would be a good time.

The Chaplin was more than eager to provide a Bible for the Commander, and informed me how it was illegal for anyone to own a Bible in his country, and if anyone had found out about him being a Christian, he would have been killed on the spot.
I was able to give the Bible to the Commander just before he got on the transport, and told him it was now his turn to carry on the good work.

He smiled back at me for the first time, and said, “With great pride and joy.”

I am old enough now to see God didn’t have me captured, I was being rescued from myself, and now I can see the Commander hasn’t been captured, but freed to enjoy God.

A Farming Community?

Whenever I’ve been asked what kind of community I live in, I’ve always told them it’s a rural farming community. When we moved here 25 years ago this was definitely a small farming community. We grew the best potatoes, onions and corn around. It was easy to find the best vegetables because all you had to do was ask a farmer and end up with more than you could possibly eat.

Not that things were paradise. I remember more then one time being in a hurry and stuck behind a farm truck and unable to pass. For those who don’t know a farm truck only had enough power to do about 45 mph in a 55 mph zone. Now I’ll be doing almost 60 mph in that same 55 mph zone and get past like I’m sitting still. The question now is this still a farming community?

The answer is yes, we still live in a farming community but instead of the main crops being vegetables its houses. 11 years ago I made the decision to stop commuting to Boise and start my own company here away from the hurried atmosphere there. I never expected that Boise’s hurried way of life to reach here 60 miles away, but now it has. They say that growth is good. If you don’t grow you’ll stagnate and die. If that is so, how come the doc says that if I grow any more I’ll die.

Eight years ago I bought an acre from a farmer’s alfalfa field and thought I was in heaven. It was a ½ mile out of town with a wonderful view of the valley. I loved the smell and look right after he cut his field. Who could of expected that a freak car accident would take the farmer’s life and the field sold to a developer who wants to put 200 plus homes on 75 acres. To add salt the wounds the city wants to annex us into the city and double our taxes. For the cherry on top I found out that other developers are waiting to see what happens so they can buy the rest of the land around me and put in more subdivisions.

Trying to get answers from the city is like wrestling with a greased pig. The legal bull is so thick in the procedures that it boils down that the city can do what it wants because they have everything so confusing for those of us who don’t speak lawyer, that by the time you get it somewhat figured out, it’s all done. I have never had any desire to become a lawyer until now. The way that the world seems to be going you have to be a lawyer to understand anything in this world and that is still debatable. The one with the biggest or most lawyers wins. Is it just me or does that seem wrong?

To be honest, the land around my home is really best for homes. My concerns are the way that the homes a stacked in the subdivisions, the traffic, water and sewer. A neighboring town doesn’t have enough water now, to fill the subdivisions that they have already started and I read in the paper that they want to extend water and sewer out to the freeway for a new car dealership. I know that there is a “redneck” or “here’s your sign” joke in there.

The city engineer didn’t sound too positive about enough water for all of the proposals going in my town. But the City Council voted down a proposal to make it a little tougher for developers because they didn’t want to scare the developers away. If this wasn’t happening in my own town I would be able to make some great jokes, but the idiocy is too close to home.

I worry about the traffic, especially getting out on to the main highway. But the 1 hour traffic study says a traffic light is not needed. All that is needed, is for the intersection to be re-stripped, and it will handle the extra 2,000 cars a day just from this one subdivision. Remember there are several more that want to go in. Yes I did say 1 hour pm traffic study. There is no set time, so as far as we know it could be at 11:00 pm so it would seem then that traffic wouldn’t be that bad, but try turning left at 5:00 pm and let the game of chicken begin.

I wish I had some answers for you, but I don’t. The City Clerk is happy to get me information but answers are scarce. From the time I got the first letter about the proposed subdivision going in next door to me and annexing my property into the city to being a done deal was less the 50 days. During the City Council meeting many people entered documents full of facts, questions, and concerns but not one council member looked at them before making the decision. I would really like to be able to have faith in the city’s Planning and Zoning Committee, the City Council, and the employees in charge of the city growth, but I have not seen or heard anything to provide even a glimmer of hope.

I certainly do not begrudge people wanting to move here, for I personally do not know where else I would want to live. But I am worried about the way of life that we all are searching for is being pushed and squeezed away. There is room here for all of us if we are smart and acting as good stewards of the resources that we have. If we don’t manage the growth responsibly now we will always be paying for it.

1945

The year was 1945, everyone should remember, not just Americans. It was our (humanity’s) highest and lowest point. The great world war ended giving everyone the chance to rebuild, but at the cost of many lives, and the dropping of the atomic bomb. It was to be the war ending all wars, but unfortunately we know it not to be the case.

1945 was the year this typewriter I am using was manufactured. To look at this old Underwood, you would have thought it was made in a war, not after a war. Its shine and luster has long since gone, and the years don’t look like they have been kind to this old girl, but as you can see it is still doing its job just like it did when it was new. If only we humans could say we are doing our jobs like we should.

We seem to be creatures who quickly forget our history, and have to repeat our mistakes over and over. Like a mother who quickly forgets about the pain of child birth, and wants to have another child. War is an atrocious thing no matter how you do it. The difference I see between the big world war, and wars since then, has been our naivety to think we can put restrictions on ourselves because we are civilized, and expect the war to be less gruesome.

Naturally I am bias towards the United State, but we all (civilized countries) have highly trained men and women who have chosen to defend their countries with great pride, but it breaks my heart to witness their countries, including mine, let them down. We are to support them in every way we can, which includes letting them do their jobs without putting unfair restrictions on them.

During the last world war (2), many manufactures switched gears, and instead of making their normal wares, like Underwood making typewriters, they switched to making things to help the troops, all in an effort to support our fighting men and women. Manufactures haven’t done that since then. None of us have really given up anything to support our troops. No I am not including the families who have loved ones fighting. I am talking about the rest of us who go to work, and start complaining about the traffic to get there, and what big plans we have for the weekend.
I know there is more than a few of you kind folks who just don’t know how to support our troops any more than you are, which is by helping out the families the best you can. The problem I think is you’re the silent majority, and your silence is what is hurting our troops the most. We have a few squeaky wheels out there getting all of the attention, and not the right attention. In the olden days the squeaky wheel was the one who got the oil to shut up the squeak. Now a days we seem to encourage the squeaky wheel.

The time has come to say we have heard you, we understand what you’re saying, and understand you are wanting to help, but shut up. Let us work together on finishing what has been started and doing our best to prevent this from happening again. It’s like worrying about birth control once you’re already pregnant. It’s too late. Aborting what has already been started usually causes just as much trauma as finishing it, but without any of the rewards.

Let’s finish this war by giving our troops the freedom to do what needs to be done, and put our collective energy together on preventing another war. Is it possible to prevent another war, probably not, just like preventing unplanned pregnancies. As long as there are good people in this world, there will be bad people trying to get there way, and taking advantage of the kindness of others. Let’s be nice, until it is time to not be nice, and then kick some ass.

The Last Wagon Crossing

Today was a sad day as thousands came, and with hundreds stuck in traffic to witness this historical event. The event was in the planning for year, and the time had finally come. The location was Glenns Ferry, Idaho. More specifically, the Three Islands Crossing. The he wonderful folks here had been holding the historical reenactment of the Oregon Trail Settlers crossing the hazardous Snake River yearly for the last 24 years.

Over the years, the locals have done their best to make it as realistic as possible for the people who came from far and near to see how it was done, and even witness firsthand the perils of the crossing. This was going to be their last year because time is catching up to all of those who actually know how to handle a team of horses and the wagon on a river crossing.

The movies really don’t do it justice. In one sense it seems like a simple thing to cross a river, and the small crew, (down to one wagon, a few horses, and a couple of mules) made it look easy. At the most dangerous point in the crossing, it becomes obvious everyone is swimming, and the wagon is floating down stream. The powerful river sweeps them faster down stream then their progress across it.

I have been on the river many times, and the Snake River has a way of getting your attention even while you’re up on plane in a large Jet boat. The river is very deceptive, so you would have a hard time convincing me to try and cross it on a horse, but make it a team of horses with a wagon, and the answer would be a flat “No!”.

I was honored to be able to witness the bravery of the men and women who donned on authentic costumes, and handled the cold water with smiles on their faces. The narrator helped bring an understanding of the true history, and the real peril the settler faced, and how the Indians were such a large help in getting the West settled. There is a ton of information available on the internet, but it pales in comparison to actually seeing and hearing about it from real people with a passion in their graveled voices.

It was hard for me to go to this event because I just hate being around crowds. If there was choice between going to the dentist and having my wisdom teeth pulled again, or going to a large event, I would choose the dentist, but I am grateful I didn’t find another excuse not to attend a large event. I had a wonderful experience hearing about the struggle of the settlers, and seeing what they went through first hand. If you are one of the many who got to share in my experience, you know what I mean. If you don’t know, then you should just stick to watching your sensationalized TV shows. You probably think reality shows are real too.

Like a lot of people, I complain about how things are now a days, wishing for simpler times, but after hearing, and seeing what the settlers had to go through, I feel ashamed. Some things were definitely simpler back in our near history, but the simplest of things could get you killed, and quickly. As a Simple Bear, I will stick with the simple things we have now, and just enjoy. The biggest think I learned today, was to enjoy what I have.

Friends

I am sure a politician’s favorite saying is, “You can never have too many friends.” In a sense I can agree with that, but there is another saying which also rings true of the politician, “With friends like you, who needs enemies.” I know there are some who really want to help, but let’s be honest, how many more laws do we really need, especially when we can’t fully police the laws we already have. Then you have the lawyers in our legal system who have twisted things to unrecognizable understandings by anyone. Sorry, had to vent.

I am blessed to know quite a few people, and most of them I can call my friend to one degree or another. How many true friends do I have, who are actually concerned about me, I don’t know. I know I have a few, but last Sunday I was blessed with finding out I have one more.
Without going into boring details, I will just say last weekend wasn’t a good weekend for me. Normally I can put on a good face when I am around others, but Sunday, I just didn’t care. Oh, I tried since it was Mother’s Day, but my heart wasn’t in it. When I got to church everyone asks the normal question about how things are going, and I gave my normal answer when things aren’t going very good, by saying “It’s just another day in paradise.” This translates to not worth a s..t.

This works out fine, because I learned a long time ago, most people really only want you to tell them everything is fine, because they don’t want to have to take the time to listen to your problems. They have enough problems of their own, and have no desire to hear about any more. There’s a small part of me that does understand, but only a small part for when they have a problem I am usually lucky enough to hear all about it, but once I have listened, and offered my encouragement, their off and running again, forgetting I understood their problem, because I am going through the same thing myself, but they don’t want to hear about that.

I know some of you are probably saying, “Well if they won’t listen to you when you have a problem, don’t listen to them when they have a problem.” It sounds good in theory, and I tried it once a long time ago back in school. I ended up having teachers tell my parents, I wasn’t very helpful any more, and had a bad attitude. I had to learn the hard way that once you’re labeled a nice guy, you’re cursed to always be the nice guy. I don’t mean to sound cynical, for I have been able to meet some really interesting people because they felt safe to talk with me.

Back to my friend. I called him one and would gladly help him out whenever he needed it, but I will be honest, I didn’t know if it was a two way street. I have learned the hard way you just never know. Out of all of the people I met a church who asked me how I was, he took the time to see through the smoke screen, and asked me about it repeatedly.

Hear was my chance to finally talk about my problems with someone who would listen to me, and guess what happened? I found I didn’t really have anything to say. My problems weren’t anything anyone could fix, or that needed to be fixed. Just the thought of having someone who was truly willing to listen to me, encouraged me, and that was all I needed. It was just nice to be noticed.

With the hustle and bustle of life which keeps increasing with every passing minute of the clock, it seems to be getting harder and harder to get noticed by others. To get noticed by others it seems you have to really stand out, one way or another, and a lot of the ways people are trying to stand out aren’t healthy. I wonder if we would have all of the problems in the world today, if we would all just take a minute to truly notice someone each day. To ask someone how they are doing, and to go the extra mile to make sure they really are fine. My advice is to start with at least one person a day, and grow it to as many people as you can, and watch the world brighten around you each and every day. My world was truly brightened, because one person went the mile to show they really cared.

Secret to a Happy Marriage

I once heard the true secret to a happy marriage was not to get married at all. Those who have recently gone through an ugly divorce probably would agree with that. Although I can sympathize with those who have had problems, I cannot agree with them. This summer my wife and I will be celebrating our 20th anniversary.

I remember when we were going through premarital counseling with the preacher, he said the life expectancy of a marriage back then was only 7 years. He told us we were going to have to work at staying together, and not to take light our responsibilities. My wonderful wife to be, and I listened to him, but neither one of us understood what he was talking about. We had been living in sin (together) for a year when we went through his premarital counseling, and for us the wedding was strictly a formality.

20 years later, nothing has changed for us. Neither one of us understand when people keep telling us you have to work to keep a marriage together. No I am not saying we have never had our disagreements, or full out arguments, but the option of getting a divorce was never, and still isn’t an option. We know in spite of our little differences, we are much better together then we are apart.

I met a couple last fall, who are in their nineties, and they have been married for 70 years. What caught my attention was the way they act around each other. Most people who I have seen who have been together a long time, usually end up just staying together out of duty, but this couple is still happy to be together. This wasn’t just a face put on in front of a stranger, this was real.
I asked them why they thought they had such a good marriage while so many others couldn’t seem to last a couple of years. In one word they agreed it was “trust”. They trusted each other completely, and in everything, without stipulations. They talked about how they trusted each other with money, and not cheating on one another, but the one thing they didn’t say, but was understood, was they trusted each other to stick around when things didn’t go according to plan, or hopes. This included when one spouse or the other, on the rare occasion acted human, and hurt the others feelings.

I don’t care who you are, by the time you lost your first baby tooth you’ve had your feelings hurt. It is a natural part of life, just like falling down every now and then and skinning your knee. The question is, are you going to just lay there on the ground crying poor me, and give up on life, or are you going to get up, and try walking again? I know there are times I’ve hurt my wife’s feelings, and when I am made aware of it, I truly feel bad, for I never intend to hurt her, and thankfully she knows this, just as I know she doesn’t mean to hurt my feelings.

The heart of the matter is just that the heart of it. Does the person who hurt your feeling mean to, and if so why? If you just get mad without ever finding out the answers to those questions, you are destined to fail in any relationship. We are all human destined to make mistakes, and sometimes the mistake is thinking two wrongs make a right.

Marriage isn’t about work, it’s about trust. Ultimately before you ever think about marriage you need to ask yourself if you can trust the other’s heart completely. If you can’t you need to ask yourself why. Is it something about the other person, or is it about you? If you got married before you ever answered those questions, you both need to answer the questions right away. If the answer isn’t completely, than you’re going to have to fix it, and because you put the cart before the horse, you might have to actually work at getting trust built up in the relationship. Can it be done, you bet. Is it worth it, without question!

One last thing, if you do have to work at getting things fixed, make the work fun, like building the ultimate sand castle, not like mucking out the barn. This is your chance to really learn about the other person, and for them to learn about you, let the experience be fun, and ongoing.

Family Time