For thee, not ye

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I’ve been troubled all week, for the sake of my friend: He’s a young mission intern, stationed (so-to-speak) in Bethlehem, on the Palestinian side of the Wall.

I first heard of the trouble in Gaza a week ago by way of my Facebook News Feed. It was getting mighty noisy, comin’ out of Bethlehem.

Last night I read on Facebook that my friend was drained of emotional energy from it all. So this morning when I got to work, I asked a friend or two to pray for him.

Then I checked Facebook again and discovered that the missile-lobbing was right in-his-face, and that he and his cohorts were probably evacuating, six hours previous.

Well then I got totally alarmed, and pulled out all the stops. I set the whole dang Michigan Methodist prayer chain in motion.

Came home from work at 1 p.m. My husband told me, don’t worry – Hillary’s on her way over there.

Me? I continued just in prayer.

And as I did the dishes, I was thinking: If Jesus came to calm the tribes from fighting, He could separate the peoples into their clans and give them each their apportioned land.

But what would he do with those of us who, like me, are mixed-breed people?

And I thought, well maybe he’d have us choose a clan.

In which case I would choose aboriginal American, I think (i.e., Indians).  If they would go back to old-fashioned ways, that is.

But I don’t suppose anybody is ever going to go back to living more harmoniously with nature, are they? And Jesus is probably NOT going to come physically back here to calm the clans and settle the land disputes anytime soon, either.

So meanwhile, setting aside my daydreams as I wash the dinner dishes – finally, about 2 p.m. (give-or-take) Eastern Standard Time, my iPhone starts chirping as my Twitter alerts start feeding me news that my friend is alive and shooting off his mouth re-tweeting all sorts of mid-eastern tweets.  Thank God!

So I calmed my own fears a bit, and finished out the afternoon. And realizing that SOMETHING must have happened “over there” I googled the words “cease fire” to see what was up. And yes – there was a cease fire between Hamas and Israel at 2 p.m. ET.

So my friend is safe. And I see this peace – as a gift of God – through whatever means it was brought about, be it Egypt, Hamas,  or Hillary Clinton. A peace for the answers to INDIVIDUAL prayers, for the sake of individual pray-ers. Because I guess I don’t figure God looks so much at us nationally as what He looks at us individually.

So the peace is for THEE, not for ye.


The War in Iraq

January 13, 2007

This is a poem I came across a few years ago, and I do not know who wrote it. I was told it was found in an anonymous WWII scrapbook that had been picked up at a White Elephant Sale. If anyone knows who wrote the poem, or if it is copyrighted, I’d appreciate hearing from you.

The poem is written from a maternal point-of-view, which point-of-view resonates with my soul.

Okay then, here’s the poem:

While I am rocking you, my son
And singing lullabies;
Someone is planning stouter planes
For Death to ride the skies.

While I am dressing you, my son,
In little boyish suits,
Someone is making uniforms
And sturdy soldier boots.

While you are chasing butterflies,
Amid the tangled grass,
Someone is testing chemicals
To make a deadlier gas.

And while you eat your simple fare,
Perhaps the war lords sit,
To start again the bugle notes
That only call the fit.

While I would build a splendid man
So fine and strong, my son,
Someone, in secret, tries to make
A farther-reaching gun —

A gun that on some distant day,
When drums of battle roll,
May leave me with a golden star
And iron in my soul.

— Author Unknown

If any of you who read this are on the “Wage Peace” bandwagon, please do not write to ask me to jump on board that wagon. War is a horrible thing, but I am not necessarily opposed to all military action. I do not know what to think about this war, I never have known what to think about this war, I don’t know if I have ever heard the truth about this war. I’ll wait and let my grandkids tell me what was really going on.