Only in America…

My mother is probably the only other person who will appreciate this list, but I’m sharing it anyway. Not growing up in The States gave me a broader perspective of the world, and while there are things I LOVED about ex-pat living, coming home was always the highlight of my year. Enjoy!

 -        Sno cone stands

-        Sonic happy hour

-        ice cream trucks

-        Carrie Underwood

-        Taco Bueno

-        DR. PEPPER! And Doritos that don’t cost $9 a bag

-        access to good education

-        the fact that if you work hard and treat people right, you can make it, and the fact that you made it doesn’t have to make you a different person.

-        The fact that you can better other people’s lives by enriching your own.

-        The fact that we are free to be what we are- and others are free to disagree or criticize you for it.

-        Bath and Body Works

-     drinking out of a water fountain without getting diarrhea for a week.

-     Thanksgiving turkeys that don’t taste like fish (and for that matter, Thanksgiving at all!).

-     Cold Christmases

-     Fireworks on the lake on our Independence Day.

-     Good health care.

-     Access to my own vehicle, sparing me from a sweltering bus ride, standing up next to a woman who has never shaved her armpits in her LIFE, whose only safety measure for this mode of transportation is to hold the bar above her head.

-     The fact that no one here celebrates their anniversary by hiring a mariachi band to “serenade” them the entire time the sun is sleeping, aka ALL.NIGHT.LONG.

-     The fact that policemen are really there to protect the people, and aren’t just out to get as much bribe money as possible, including personal checks (which my mother wrote to a policeman TWICE in Mexico- and they cashed them!).

-     Air conditioning

-     fabric softener

-     Country music

 This world of ours is full of wonderful people and beautiful places. I found all of these and more in every country I have lived in or visited. I found that no matter where you go, it’s the people that matter the most… but anytime I encountered something like real Doritos or heard Shania Twain on the radio, I’d get a whiff of home, and a picture of the people I loved who were still there.

 The list goes on, and I’d love to hear from you.  What are some of the things you love about being in America/typical American fare?

Loving America

 Most people would nod their head and agree with me if I said to them, “If they hear it enough, most people believe what they constantly hear about and tell themselves, don’t they?”. Self-talk has gotten me through some very difficult times in my life, and while it is not a permanent fix, it can be a great tool for setting your thinking in the right direction. It was not until I was 24 years old that I realized that people will always be flawed, and that in order to put my faith into something rock-solid and true, I would have to start believing what God said about me more than what my peers, parents, co-workers and even my self said about me. That was such a liberating epiphany, and to this day it provides confidence and gratitude beyond what I could conjure up on my own.

I have been wondering a lot lately if that same principle can be applied to things other than human beings. After all, if I am truly to believe that God loves all creation, then I have to believe what He says about it all, not just people. I often feel very alone and frustrated in my love for my country. The 4^th of July is my second favorite holiday after Christmas, and I am one of those who gets goose bumps during every national anthem I hear and tend to cry when I watch fireworks. Red, White and Blue make me warm and fuzzy inside and seeing a bald eagle is still awe-inspiring. I buy a new flag every year for my house (stupid Oklahoma wind always tears them up) and know that while Ryan rolls his eyes at me for it, he secretly enjoys putting it out for me every summer.

Have you ever noticed (and hated yourself for it) that we tend to treat those we love the most the worst sometimes? Why is that? I think one of the reasons is that we love too hard. We love to control things and we put a lot of effort and energy into molding our lives into what we think it should be. When we love something so much and they don’t respond the way we think they should, or return our love as fiercely, or even turn their backs on us, that is when we snap the hardest, don’t you think? I can totally see myself down the road when Aubrey is a teenager reacting this way to her (although I will try not to and hope you all hold me accountable to that). My biggest disappointments will come when she doesn’t behave as a lady should (I really, really, really don’t want her to be who I was as a teenager), or when I realize that I failed to teach her something vital, or when she chooses a path that is different than the one I would have chosen. And how could I not? She is a part of me. Someone once said that motherhood is so scary because you constantly have your heart walking around outside of you. 

It is for this very reason that I think people love to hate America. She has not turned out to be quite what she was created to be, and for this reason, her people are disappointed, disillusioned and, at least from what I see in my circles, ready to give up on her. I am not one of those Christians who believe that America is blessed of God more than any other nation. I cannot explain to you why we have so many “blessings” (conveniences) while a country full of people that God has to love just as much as us, like Darfur, is plagued by civil war, rape, murder and starvation. But I do believe that I can have purpose and opportunity to help people in a country like Darfur precisely because I live in America. 

My only relief to the guilt that can rise up every time I read the news is that while I do feel blessed to live here, I in no way deserve it more than anyone else. I have an added responsibility to care for my neighbor. Decisions I make every day that can seem so small, like where my coffee comes from, can ultimately affect people in other countries who don’t have the options that I do. I also have the hope that in the end, God will set all of the injustices of the world right, and true heaven on earth will come not from mansions in the sky and eternal praise and worship, but from a truly perfect earth with a truly Just ruler. 

So, who is wrong? The person who loves too hard or the person who hates too hard? If they both have the same outcome, does it really matter? Our country turns 233 years old this weekend. As the people responsible for shaping and molding her, do we criticize her so much because she is not what we think she should be? At some level, we are all at fault for the state of her existence today. But instead of getting mad or constantly berating her, shouldn’t we take a look at ourselves? After all, that is something that is great about this country- the ability to change our circumstances. The American Dream shouldn’t be about getting a big house, car, or having a bunch of “stuff”. The American Dream is something that we can all live out- the fact that if you work hard and live nobly, you can create a good life for yourself and your family, and hopefully have some sort of positive eternal impact on this earth and your neighbor. My own family is a living example of this. Next time you want to put down your homeland, why don’t you take a look at yourself first? You might just see that your problem is not the country you live in, but the people and decisions you surround yourself with. 

I love poetry. I see poetry in things I read or in songs I hear. Take a moment to read this song as a poem, and to realize that while she has her faults, America is still a beautiful place. She is a result of the wonderful creativity of our God, a pursuit of pilgrims who would give their lives for the freedom to proclaim the good news and a dream of many for a better life.

America the Beautiful / Words by Katharine Lee Bates, Melody by Samuel Ward
O beautiful for spacious skies,
For amber waves of grain,
For purple mountain majesties
Above the fruited plain!
America! America!
God shed his grace on thee
And crown thy good with brotherhood
From sea to shining sea!
O beautiful for pilgrim feet
Whose stern impassioned stress
A thoroughfare of freedom beat
Across the wilderness!
America! America!
God mend thine every flaw,
Confirm thy soul in self-control,
Thy liberty in law!
O beautiful for heroes proved
In liberating strife.
Who more than self their country loved
And mercy more than life!
America! America!
May God thy gold refine
Till all success be nobleness
And every gain divine!
O beautiful for patriot dream
That sees beyond the years
Thine alabaster cities gleam
Undimmed by human tears!
America! America!
God shed his grace on thee
And crown thy good with brotherhood
From sea to shining sea!
O beautiful for halcyon skies,
For amber waves of grain,
For purple mountain majesties
Above the enameled plain!
America! America!
God shed his grace on thee
Till souls wax fair as earth and air
And music-hearted sea!
O beautiful for pilgrims feet,
Whose stem impassioned stress
A thoroughfare for freedom beat
Across the wilderness!
America! America!
God shed his grace on thee
Till paths be wrought through
wilds of thought
By pilgrim foot and knee!
O beautiful for glory-tale
Of liberating strife
When once and twice,
for man’s avail
Men lavished precious life!
America! America!
God shed his grace on thee
Till selfish gain no longer stain
The banner of the free!
O beautiful for patriot dream
That sees beyond the years
Thine alabaster cities gleam
Undimmed by human tears!
America! America!
God shed his grace on thee
Till nobler men keep once again
Thy whiter jubilee!

My favorite line is “Till selfish gain no longer stain the banner of the free”. It is irresponsible to neglect the opportunities this land has given us. It is self-destructive to merely sit there and pick apart all that is wrong with this country we belong to. There is a way to embrace America while promoting and portraying the bigger picture of what we are to become as Christians. Being a Christian in America may be more convenient, but it is not easier and we still face the challenge of living in this world while not being of it. 

I’d like to ask you to quit whining about this country. Like a beaten woman who starts to believe the lies she’s told every day, America is slowly becoming what we say about her. One day she will wake up and realize how far she is from her roots and her purpose, and the blame will rest squarely on our abusive heads. Build her up and love her while correcting the waywardness of her path. No one has ever blossomed into what their true purpose is from constant nagging, beating and misplaced appreciation. Think what she might become if we sang the words above to her and she actually started to believe them!

Today we honor a world-changer

“I Have A Dream” by Martin Luther King, Jr.

Delivered on the steps at the Lincoln Memorial in Washington D.C. on August 28, 1963

Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand signed the Emancipation Proclamation. This momentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of Negro slaves who had been seared in the flames of withering injustice. It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of captivity. But one hundred years later, we must face the tragic fact that the Negro is still not free. One hundred years later, the life of the Negro is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination. One hundred years later, the Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years later, the Negro is still languishing in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his own land.

So we have come here today to dramatize an appalling condition. In a sense we have come to our nation’s capital to cash a check. When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all men would be guaranteed the inalienable rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. It is obvious today that America has defaulted on this promissory note insofar as her citizens of color are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, America has given the Negro people a bad check which has come back marked “insufficient funds.” But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation. So we have come to cash this check — a check that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and the security of justice. We have also come to this hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce urgency of now. This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time to open the doors of opportunity to all of God’s children. Now is the time to lift our nation from the quicksand’s of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood. It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment and to underestimate the determination of the Negro. This sweltering summer of the Negro’s legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom and equality. Nineteen sixty-three is not an end, but a beginning. Those who hope that the Negro needed to blow off steam and will now be content will have a rude awakening if the nation returns to business as usual. There will be neither rest nor tranquility in America until the Negro is granted his citizenship rights. The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake the foundations of our nation until the bright day of justice emerges.

But there is something that I must say to my people who stand on the warm threshold which leads into the palace of justice. In the process of gaining our rightful place we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred. We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. we must not allow our creative protest to degenerate into physical violence. Again and again we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting physical force with soul force. The marvelous new militancy which has engulfed the Negro community must not lead us to distrust of all white people, for many of our white brothers, as evidenced by their presence here today, have come to realize that their destiny is tied up with our destiny and their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom. We cannot walk alone. And as we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall march ahead. We cannot turn back. There are those who are asking the devotees of civil rights, “When will you be satisfied?” we can never be satisfied as long as our bodies, heavy with the fatigue of travel, cannot gain lodging in the motels of the highways and the hotels of the cities. We cannot be satisfied as long as the Negro’s basic mobility is from a smaller ghetto to a larger one. We can never be satisfied as long as a Negro in Mississippi cannot vote and a Negro in New York believes he has nothing for which to vote. No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until justice rolls down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream.

I am not unmindful that some of you have come here out of great trials and tribulations. Some of you have come fresh from narrow cells. Some of you have come from areas where your quest for freedom left you battered by the storms of persecution and staggered by the winds of police brutality. You have been the veterans of creative suffering. Continue to work with the faith that unearned suffering is redemptive. Go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back to Georgia, go back to Louisiana, go back to the slums and ghettos of our northern cities, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed. Let us not wallow in the valley of despair. I say to you today, my friends, that in spite of the difficulties and frustrations of the moment, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.

I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: “We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal.”

I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slaveowners will be able to sit down together at a table of brotherhood.

I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a desert state, sweltering with the heat of injustice and oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.

I have a dream that my four children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.

I have a dream today. I have a dream that one day the state of Alabama, whose governor’s lips are presently dripping with the words of interposition and nullification, will be transformed into a situation where little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls and walk together as sisters and brothers.

I have a dream today. I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight, and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together. This is our hope. This is the faith with which I return to the South.

With this faith we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.

This will be the day when all of God’s children will be able to sing with a new meaning, “My country, ’tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing. Land where my fathers died, land of the pilgrim’s pride, from every mountainside, let freedom ring.” And if America is to be a great nation this must become true. So let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire. Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York.

Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania! Let freedom ring from the snowcapped Rockies of Colorado! Let freedom ring from the curvaceous peaks of California! But not only that; let freedom ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia! Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee! Let freedom ring from every hill and every molehill of Mississippi.

From every mountainside, let freedom ring. When we let freedom ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God’s children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual,

“Free at last! free at last! thank God Almighty, we are free at last!”

Fare well, George W. Bush.

I only know of probably one other person who might shout an “amen” to this blog, so please know that I am not writing it to fish for any sort of agreement (and those of you who feel the need to hate might do well to refrain from it), but this has all been sitting so heavy on me for the last month or so that I just had to get it out.

 

I am one of the few who will miss George W. Bush. There, I said it. Please hold back the chants of “Crucify!” back until you hear me out. The year 2000 was the first year I could vote. I had no clue about politics or thinking for myself. I registered Republican because that is what my parents were. I called myself a Pentecostal because that is what my parents were. I went to the college they said I would go to, I drove the car they bought me, I had a lovely, blissfully ignorant life. I knew that for whatever reasons, my whole family thought that Bill Clinton was evil and that voting for his VP was not an option. So, I mailed in my absentee ballot since I was in a different town and felt the lovely sensation that November of the guy you voted for being declared the winner (oh, how I miss that feeling).

 

You know what happened next- September 11. That is a day I will never forget. That is a day when I woke up and realized how ugly the world can be. That is a day where I saw fear, terror, and death. It was a day that I saw a grown man, leader of the free world so saddened by what had happened that he cried, for all the world to see. He was determined not to let this happen again. That day, I got angry enough to care. I was glued to the television, obsessed with the news. Even though I was scared, I felt safe. I knew this not happen again. Not now, that we knew what could happen and the harm some meant for us. America would never be caught off guard again.

 

There have been mistakes, oh how there have been mistakes. But there have been victories and triumphs and hope restored to people held down by a dictator. I am not one to judge all of the President’s motives or reasons. I can only take a look at the facts, and the fact is that America has not seen another 9/11 since that day in 2001, and it is because of the man that is our President. Bill O’Reilly states these facts better than I can:

 

“Immediately after the attack on 9/11, the Muslim jihadists had a big wind at their backs. We saw TV pictures of Muslims dancing in the streets as the great Satan America was humbled by al-Qaeda. Almost instantly, the invincibility of the United States was challenged and the physical safety of Americans was at risk. It was very possible that further attacks were close.
Moving quickly, the Bush administration reorganized the FBI into a terror-fighting organization and toppled the Taliban in Afghanistan, disrupting al-Qaeda’s command and control. Those successful tactics blunted a number of active terror plots and resulted in the capture of a number of al-Qaeda big shots, all of whom broke under coerced interrogation. The information they gave up allowed the Bush administration to further damage the terrorist infrastructure.
Then came Iraq, an operation designed to cleanse the Muslim world of the huge terrorist enabler Saddam Hussein. The price of that war is still being debated, but what is not disputed by honest people is that the al-Qaeda foot soldiers that invaded Iraq hoping to defeat the U.S. military were eventually decimated. The price for America in Iraq has been enormous, but al-Qaeda has also paid big.

Today, the terror threat still exists, but it is no longer centralized and has lost most of its momentum. In short, the United States is winning the shooting war and President Bush should get credit for that.”

 

Many do not see George Bush as a defender of the innocent. Many see him as a mass murderer, an idiot, a honky-tonk Texas boy who somehow wiggled his way into the Presidency. I disagree with that assessment. His decisions have been unpopular (according to Gallup, the man leaves with a 34% approval rating). Some have been massively stupid. But there is no denying that he did what he thought was right. He acted on his convictions. We have been safe. Our children have not seen planes turned into weapons, mass terror or people jumping from skyscrapers because they would rather die like that than be incinerated.

 

Unfortunately, a big part of George Bush’s presidency is defined by death. Whether it be the death of over 3000 Americans, the deaths of our soldiers fighting for the greater good- freedom for all-, or the deaths of dictators and terrorists, there has been a lot of it in the past 8 years. But you know what? Because of George Bush’s convictions on right and wrong, I am certain that thousands of lives have been saved- lives that many don’t even define as “viable” or “worth the hassle”. I am talking about the unborn.

 

By not allowing further boundaries to come down when it comes to abortion in this country, the President has saved many lives. By recognizing that God creates all things and that we have no right to stop life before it even begins, we say no to death, selfishness, ignorance and waste. To lay down a death sentence on an innocent baby who has no voice of their own… to take away their chance to breathe the air, to see the sky, to feel another human’s touch, to taste, smell, laugh, cry, and love, well to me that is such an incredible tragedy. Even more so, the tragedy lies in the justification of those who scream and wail about Bush playing God, and yet support a woman’s “right” to do the same with her child. IT IS NOT RIGHT. IT IS MURDER. Christians especially should never ever be on the side of convenient murder. As Christians, we give up our rights as we follow Christ. As a Christian woman, I belong to Christ. I follow His guidance, I deny myself as an “American”, as my own person, and I give up my “rights”. I don’t DESERVE to live in America, but I do. I don’t DESERVE to be a woman, but I am. Just because I am an American woman and the laws of the land say I have a “right” to kill my unborn child for various reasons, DOES NOT MEAN I SHOULD. Women have come a long way in this country, and hurrah for us. But defining our freedom through the choice to murder? That is shameful, that is nothing that I want to be a part of.

 

Tomorrow we get a new president. A man who is ready to sign laws which would further lower boundaries and reasons for abortions. This “freedom to privacy” act is a joke. It would mean that any woman could get an abortion for any reason. “Depressed” because you got knocked up? Abortion. Headache? Abortion. Mistake? Abortion. Can’t afford a baby? Head on down to your local death clinic where the tax payers of America will fund the procedure of vacuuming a baby, a living being, out of your uterus and dumping it in the trash. Too far along? Well thanks to Barack Obama, late-term abortion will be an option now for many. Head on down to the murderers disguised as doctors and let them deliver your entire baby but its head, stab it in the neck and vacuum its brains out. The child’s skull can then collapse, the murderer will pull the baby out and dump it in the trash. If this isn’t infuriating you then I have no idea what would, what could. All in the name of “privacy” and “rights”. It is disgusting.

 

I pray that God opens Barack Obama’s eyes. My heart is heavy, heavy, heavy for tomorrow. I am saddened that the only thing people can see is the color of his skin. I don’t care if you are rainbow colored, if you are going to enable mass convenient murder, and of innocent children no less, I cannot and will not respect you.

 

For now I can only pray that God changes his heart. I pray he succeeds with the war on terror, because if he fails we are all screwed. I pray that Barack Obama will have compassion on ALL who cannot help themselves, not just lazy drug addicts on welfare. Have compassion on the innocent. I mourn the thousands of unborn deaths that will be a result of tomorrow.

 

God, help us.

Sweet Christmas Wish

This video  made me tear up, its sooo sweet! This little girl asked Santa for her daddy for Christmas and got her wish. While you are celebrating this season, take time to remember and pray for these families who willingly sacrifice for our freedoms, our safety and our ideals. God Bless America.

On the subject of “gay marriage”…

I could live with this.

Never Forget…

I have never been to New York, the Pentagon or Pennsylvania, but every year on September 11, I weep for the memories of those lost. I don’t know anyone who died, I haven’t been to ground zero, and I have no idea how I would have reacted if I had been there. I do know this: I am an American, as were they. No matter your ideas on whose fault it was, no matter what political party you belong to, no matter your religion… I think we can all agree that these attacks were horrific and changed our lives forever.

I was a sophomore in college on 9.11.01. I was getting ready for class, in the shower actually when the first plane hit. My entire shower caddy for no reason at all just fell off the shower head and all of my toiletries landed on my toes. Annoyed and in pain, I muttered to myself, this is not going to be a good day. 2 seconds after I had wrapped myself in a towel and prepared to apply my makeup, my roomate’s sister barrelled into our dorm room and frantically told me to turn on my TV. I tuned in just in time to see the second plane hit. It took me a long time to realize that this was real, this was really happening. But why? At 19 years old, I had not educated myself about the world much- except to know that I had lived in foreign countries due to my dad’s job, I spoke spanish and had a wider worldview than many of my fellow students at my tiny Christian college in Bethany, OK. I knew what it was like to live outside of the USA, and because of my sadness while I was gone, I was a girl who LOVED MY COUNTRY, still do, and could not understand why anyone else would hate it.

That day was crazy. Everyone panicked and booked it to 7-11 to fill up their gas tanks because relatives were calling with stories of $10/gallon gas and fears that Oklahoma City would be hit again. Chapel was cancelled, we all gathered together and cried and prayed and tried to make sense of it all. There were rants of the end times which made me mad and scared… I got a call from my aunt that my cousin who worked in the Pentagon was unreachable. That’s when I lost it. I went to the park and sat in my car and railed against God, the Muslims, the world. I didn’t feel any better. I didn’t feel any safer. I went back to my room to see images of desperate people flinging themselves off of buildings because they’d rather die like that than burn to death. I threw up. My aunt called to tell me that my cousin was alive and well. I went to class that night, where no one could concentrate. All of the emotion was dizzying, and just thinking of it today overwhelms me. I cannot imagine what it must be like today for those who were actually there and survived, for those who lost someone close to them, for those who saw it from their rooftops.

Time has calmed me- I know that God has a purpose for it somewhere, even if after 7 years we don’t know what it is. I know that not all Muslims are crazed Jihadists. I know the true depth of sacrifice our troops make to ensure this doesn’t happen again. I don’ think I’ll ever be able to not cry when I see the images from that day. I will never be able to really convey what my heart and mind were going through that day. I will always instill respect and love of country into my daughter, I will always be grateful for the sacrifice of people who put people and country above their own lives and fight to keep America safe. I will always remember the heroes of 9.11.01, and I will never forget.

Click here to remember with me. What about you? Where were you on 9/11 and how did it impact you? I’d love for you to share…

Fairy tale lessons…

The Emperor’s New Suit by Hans Christian Andersen (1837)

MANY, many years ago lived an emperor, who thought so much of new clothes that he spent all his money in order to obtain them; his only ambition was to be always well dressed. He did not care for his soldiers, and the theatre did not amuse him; the only thing, in fact, he thought anything of was to drive out and show a new suit of clothes. He had a coat for every hour of the day; and as one would say of a king “He is in his cabinet,” so one could say of him, “The emperor is in his dressing-room.”

The great city where he resided was very gay; every day many strangers from all parts of the globe arrived. One day two swindlers came to this city; they made people believe that they were weavers, and declared they could manufacture the finest cloth to be imagined. Their colours and patterns, they said, were not only exceptionally beautiful, but the clothes made of their material possessed the wonderful quality of being invisible to any man who was unfit for his office or unpardonably stupid.

“That must be wonderful cloth,” thought the emperor. “If I were to be dressed in a suit made of this cloth I should be able to find out which men in my empire were unfit for their places, and I could distinguish the clever from the stupid. I must have this cloth woven for me without delay.” And he gave a large sum of money to the swindlers, in advance, that they should set to work without any loss of time. They set up two looms, and pretended to be very hard at work, but they did nothing whatever on the looms. They asked for the finest silk and the most precious gold-cloth; all they got they did away with, and worked at the empty looms till late at night.

“I should very much like to know how they are getting on with the cloth,” thought the emperor. But he felt rather uneasy when he remembered that he who was not fit for his office could not see it. Personally, he was of opinion that he had nothing to fear, yet he thought it advisable to send somebody else first to see how matters stood. Everybody in the town knew what a remarkable quality the stuff possessed, and all were anxious to see how bad or stupid their neighbors were.

“I shall send my honest old minister to the weavers,” thought the emperor. “He can judge best how the stuff looks, for he is intelligent, and nobody understands his office better than he.”

The good old minister went into the room where the swindlers sat before the empty looms. “Heaven preserve us!” he thought, and opened his eyes wide, “I cannot see anything at all,” but he did not say so. Both swindlers requested him to come near, and asked him if he did not admire the exquisite pattern and the beautiful colours, pointing to the empty looms. The poor old minister tried his very best, but he could see nothing, for there was nothing to be seen. “Oh dear,” he thought, “can I be so stupid? I should never have thought so, and nobody must know it! Is it possible that I am not fit for my office? No, no, I cannot say that I was unable to see the cloth.”

“Now, have you got nothing to say?” said one of the swindlers, while he pretended to be busily weaving.

“Oh, it is very pretty, exceedingly beautiful,” replied the old minister looking through his glasses. “What a beautiful pattern, what brilliant colours! I shall tell the emperor that I like the cloth very much.”

“We are pleased to hear that,” said the two weavers, and described to him the colours and explained the curious pattern. The old minister listened attentively, that he might relate to the emperor what they said; and so he did.

Now the swindlers asked for more money, silk and gold-cloth, which they required for weaving. They kept everything for themselves, and not a thread came near the loom, but they continued, as hitherto, to work at the empty looms.

Soon afterwards the emperor sent another honest courtier to the weavers to see how they were getting on, and if the cloth was nearly finished. Like the old minister, he looked and looked but could see nothing, as there was nothing to be seen.

“Is it not a beautiful piece of cloth?” asked the two swindlers, showing and explaining the magnificent pattern, which, however, did not exist.

“I am not stupid,” said the man. “It is therefore my good appointment for which I am not fit. It is very strange, but I must not let any one know it;” and he praised the cloth, which he did not see, and expressed his joy at the beautiful colours and the fine pattern. “It is very excellent,” he said to the emperor.

Everybody in the whole town talked about the precious cloth. At last the emperor wished to see it himself, while it was still on the loom. With a number of courtiers, including the two who had already been there, he went to the two clever swindlers, who now worked as hard as they could, but without using any thread.

“Is it not magnificent?” said the two old statesmen who had been there before. “Your Majesty must admire the colours and the pattern.” And then they pointed to the empty looms, for they imagined the others could see the cloth.

“What is this?” thought the emperor, “I do not see anything at all. That is terrible! Am I stupid? Am I unfit to be emperor? That would indeed be the most dreadful thing that could happen to me.”

“Really,” he said, turning to the weavers, “your cloth has our most gracious approval;” and nodding contentedly he looked at the empty loom, for he did not like to say that he saw nothing. All his attendants, who were with him, looked and looked, and although they could not see anything more than the others, they said, like the emperor, “It is very beautiful.” And all advised him to wear the new magnificent clothes at a great procession which was soon to take place. “It is magnificent, beautiful, excellent,” one heard them say; everybody seemed to be delighted, and the emperor appointed the two swindlers “Imperial Court weavers.”

The whole night previous to the day on which the procession was to take place, the swindlers pretended to work, and burned more than sixteen candles. People should see that they were busy to finish the emperor’s new suit. They pretended to take the cloth from the loom, and worked about in the air with big scissors, and sewed with needles without thread, and said at last: “The emperor’s new suit is ready now.”

The emperor and all his barons then came to the hall; the swindlers held their arms up as if they held something in their hands and said: “These are the trousers!” “This is the coat!” and “Here is the cloak!” and so on. “They are all as light as a cobweb, and one must feel as if one had nothing at all upon the body; but that is just the beauty of them.”

“Indeed!” said all the courtiers; but they could not see anything, for there was nothing to be seen.

“Does it please your Majesty now to graciously undress,” said the swindlers, “that we may assist your Majesty in putting on the new suit before the large looking-glass?”

The emperor undressed, and the swindlers pretended to put the new suit upon him, one piece after another; and the emperor looked at himself in the glass from every side.

“How well they look! How well they fit!” said all. “What a beautiful pattern! What fine colours! That is a magnificent suit of clothes!”

The master of the ceremonies announced that the bearers of the canopy, which was to be carried in the procession, were ready.

“I am ready,” said the emperor. “Does not my suit fit me marvellously?” Then he turned once more to the looking-glass, that people should think he admired his garments.

The chamberlains, who were to carry the train, stretched their hands to the ground as if they lifted up a train, and pretended to hold something in their hands; they did not like people to know that they could not see anything.

The emperor marched in the procession under the beautiful canopy, and all who saw him in the street and out of the windows exclaimed: “Indeed, the emperor’s new suit is incomparable! What a long train he has! How well it fits him!” Nobody wished to let others know he saw nothing, for then he would have been unfit for his office or too stupid. Never emperor’s clothes were more admired.

“But he has nothing on at all,” said a little child at last. “Good heavens! listen to the voice of an innocent child,” said the father, and one whispered to the other what the child had said. “But he has nothing on at all,” cried at last the whole people. That made a deep impression upon the emperor, for it seemed to him that they were right; but he thought to himself, “Now I must bear up to the end.” And the chamberlains walked with still greater dignity, as if they carried the train which did not exist.

 

The moral that I draw from this story to avoid the blindness. It’s funny how there was nothing to be blind to- no “clothes”, only the idea that the Emperor could not be wrong, and the people were scared of looking stupid if they objected to his idea of beauty.

How many people do you know who are scared of what people will think if they dared to say they like President Bush, support the troops or oppose abortion in these times of Mr. “Si Se Puede”? Are you willing to be the voice of the child to speak out with the truth? Obama (aka the Messiah of America) has a huge following, no doubt, but as the forum at Saddleback Church showed this past weekend, for all his shiny smiles and carefully constructed words, there isn’t much substance to the man. Masses wanting change should not immediately flock to the first guy who dares them to hope for it.

Wolves in sheep’s clothing, all-knowing Emperors… anyone thinking what I’m thinking? Too good to be true!

 

Outrageous

I’m sorry, I don’t care if you think I am judgemental. I don’t see how you can be a Christian and vote for Barack Obama, a man who supports this monstrosity and be able to sleep at night. It is infuriating and abominable.

Please click here, watch, and send to everyone you know.

It’s been awhile…

Just a little update since I haven’t blogged in awhile. Florida was awesome, first of all. Daniel and Amy had a beautiful, romantic wedding and it was an honor to be a part of it. It was more of an event than just a wedding. The food was good, the families getting to know each other was good, the toasts were good and the love was apparent. Waking up at 3:30 am to shave my legs wasn’t my favorite part of the weekend, but the sunrise ceremony was, well, holy in a way. It really felt sacred. At least, until the beachcomber stopped right behind the minister to watch the wedding. I am pretty sure that a lot of the pics have a scruffy dude in his board shorts holding a metal detector in them. Ha!

Other than the wedding, things are normal. Aubrey now has 3 teeth and is very close to walking. She also has her mother’s touch of OCD, today while Ryan was in the shower she took all my shampoo and cosmetic bottles out from under my sink and lined them up, labels out in a perfectly straight line. That’s my girl!

I am feeling the frenzy as the election propaganda gets shoved down my throat every evening, and I am also feeling alone in my rejection of the savior of the world, Mr. Si Se Puede Himself, Barack Obama. But that’s another blog, one I probably won’t even write because there is no convincing his followers the evils that lie ahead for America if he becomes President. Not that I worship in the church of McCain either but one of them is going to be President, so I am throwing my full support behind the guy who says its wrong to deliver all of a baby but its head, stab it in the neck and deliver it dead (late term abortion). Sorry, don’t care much about the other promises Obama makes, if he’s down with allowing that to happen in this country, I am not down with him. Everyone has rights but fetuses in this country and it makes me sick. I didn’t care much about this issue til I had Aubrey but now its the only one that matters much. Okay fine, this will be my political blog. I was talking to a friend about this, a worshiper of His Holiness and he made the comment that you can’t tell people what to do. Which to a certain extent, I agree. This is America, the land of the free, etc etc. But when it comes to moral judgements and right and wrong, I’m sorry, but you can’t do whatever you want when what you want is MURDER. Don’t talk to me about it, talk to the Big Man Upstairs, you know, the author of the 10 Commandments? I’m pretty sure abortion pisses him straight off. It is a tragedy that this is not an issue in the church.

That leads me to an interesting question: how do Christians justify voting for someone who supports abortion? I’m not being judgemental, seriously, if you are a Christian and reading this, comment me and tell me how you justify that in your mind. I really do want to understand it because to me it seems very black and white. And please do not throw in all the “well the war is murdering people” because that is a separate issue. First off, remember Sadaam Hussein (fun little fellow, gassed about 10,000 of his own countrymen just because) and all the murder he committed? What’s he up to now? Oh yeah, that’s right, he’s out of the picture, thanks to our troops in Iraq. No one forces American men and women to join the military and put themselves in harm’s way for a cause greater than themselves. They are of age, they are adults and they make their own decisions. But a little fetus? Does he/she get to say “um, wait a minute, there are hundreds of families out there who would like to adopt me and I would prefer that you not vaccum out my brains just yet”. Its gross, crass, I know, but so is the abonimable practice of baby killing.

It’s not popular. You may not think its even right. I know lots of people in my church who just love Barack Obama and think he is a rockstar. I don’t even bring this up around them (kinda sad, really, I mean I love these people and I feel like I can’t even be real with them about this sometimes) because it makes me feel completely isolated and I know the thought “warmonger” probably runs through their minds every time I mention anything positive about Bush and Iraq. The point is, I know I am the cheese who stands alone. I’m okay with that because I feel very strongly about this.

I’m sure Barack Obama has good intentions. I’m pretty sure America isn’t going to split down the middle and the world will swallow us whole if he gets elected. I’m sure he’s not a Muslim or the Antichrist or all this other silliness going around my inbox, but I am also sure that his policies of “let’s sit down and have tea with Iran, I’m sure we can fix it all with some conversation” are going to end up with a report on CNN that has the words “nuclear bomb” in it.

Listen. America is a great place. I know, I have lived in other countries and I like this one the best. My father came here with $200, two suitcases and not knowing a word of English. He is now an American citizen, speaks English and is an accomplished businessman. This is the “American Dream” and I believe that it is only truly a dream come true when you go through the process. Having things handed to you are nice, but earning them is so much more rewarding. When we moved to Mexico, we had to go to Houston for 2 days, get fingerprinted, run through the system, have pictures taken, learn spanish and assimilate in order to live there legally. I don’t remember my parents or any other Americans living there throwing fits about the requirements (other than they were a pain and the system is corrupt) or trying to get free healthcare under the radar.

So I’m just saying, if you are going to think “Christianly” about the election (if you are a Christian I don’t see any other way to think about it), take all the issues into account, not just that Bush is fun to make fun of and McCain is old. (everyone thought Bob Dole was old when he ran years ago and he’s still around)

I’ll try to keep my rants to a minimum but hey, this is my outlet. I don’t get to talk about it much anywhere else since my best friends could care less and Aubrey just kind of stares at me. Stella gets it though. She’s quite the listener.