Trauma and Trust

The Twins of Our Life

/ Norman Eric Peterson / 2 Comments

It is not as a child that I believe and confess Jesus Christ. My hosanna is born of a furnace of doubt.” ~Fyodor Dostoyevski

It is indeed, Doubt that is essential to the path of faith in Christianity. At first, it seems that doubt is gone, once faith is embraced. But is it? I must confess that I doubt at times in the seemingly impossible promises of eternal life and all that precedes it.

Protection, provision, guidance and comfort. At times it seems my life is not protected nor provided for and the comfort I desire seems as though it is the carot out of my grasp. The guidance is forgotten for a bit and I lapse into some sort of swampy thoughts. It takes the silence to look back on my life when I have been blessed by all the excellent things that I have not even asked for.

Simple things that have been the foundation of the questioning expression on my face. You know that move of your own face. A slight tilt of your head, a slight frown and the wrinkle of the forehead. Looking down a bit and your eyes pulled in along with the frown. Sort of a sad look combined with the look of puzzlement. Trying to understand a missing thing. A lost tool or something said that you didn’t quite hear. Doubt of your ability to understand or grasp reality. Doubt and confusion coupled. That can’t be right. I just saw that object. What did she say? Things akin to doubting your own understanding and not quite trusting your memory of touch, sound, sight and proprioceptive sense of balance. Off kilter in puzzlement.

Perhaps tripping over your own feet and falling to the ground or falling to the depth of your being. Doubt.

In isolation it can be devastating. With the help of someone who loves you, there is a helping hand. Reaching in to pull you up out of your fear. Love abounding to once again, reassure and rescue us from our own self doubt. A rescue that can give faith. “You’ve got this, your OK and I am here beside you, always.

Faith in another one’s words and showing you your own worth. Faith in the words of your rescuer.

This is the path to remove the doubt, the doubt that diminishes and eliminates faith. This path is well known and written about in scripture. Everyone has doubts. I look back when I feel the doubt sleeting into me. I look back on the miracles and to others, impossible communications I have been blessed with. Indeed, the helping hand of our rescuer. Jesus. He has been with me when I did not know who He was. He has whispered words to warn and guide my life to love rather than follow my indifference or even hatred of other people and really, myself.

The only way for me is to silence my mind and listen. A very old desert father in the third century put it perfectly. “Where is your savior? Why don’t you ask Him yourself? He said listen” He doesn’t lie to me and if I really am quiet and listen, He will talk to me and tell me truth about the path of Holiness. That narrow path that anyone can walk. Neither looking left nor right but walking true. Listen and walk true to the spirit of God.

It’s Pretty good. Jack Gator, scribe

The Billboard of Our Lives

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

Driving home after dark settled in and the lighted billboards line the freeway. Bigger than our driveway markers but somehow, looking similar. Runway lights. Closer in to the ‘cities’, the billboard money flows free and the led panels change several times a minute.

We don’t really look at them, they just do that subliminal thing and linger …somewhere in our minds. I want to change them to tell the truth. The casino ones that promise gaiety and a pocket of Franklin’s should have a stealth vacuum hose sucking the money out of the smiling couples pockets as they watch the roulette wheel.

The lawyers, all with four letter last names, smiling as they exude joy at your auto accidents injuries. Perfect Teeth grins, smiling morticians of misfortune. Bjorn and I count the ones with the man with outstreached arms selling cash for homes ( seven so far from Forest Lake to Blaine) A bit of humor as we drive to the Blaine campus of Eagle Brook to get the media production set up and running.

And there I am, my face exuding the billboard of my past. Selfish, confident in my past victories meaning nothing to anyone but me. Looking in the mirror of my behavior and seeing the same old anger and unwilling spirit to listen or look upon a face that shows compassion and encouragement. Another billboard seen as others pass by as unpleasant and perhaps, known.

Agony as I realize a piece of my past that I hold onto is not who I am now. It gets in my way and tells me lies about everyone that loves me. I am not worthy, I am at fault again and reminded of my failures. Hearing condemnation from within and also hearing love breaking in again and telling me of what I am becoming. Be at peace, quiet my spirit and listen to Him.

I begin the agony once more of realizing these things and suddenly, the beauty I have been blessed with for 40 years unfolds and begins to burn away the false images that I have embraced for most of my life. Tears and a quiet voice tell me a destiny that becomes clear and clean.

Called to be a warrior for Jesus and embracing more and more his gentle and firm voice. The new path, the astonishing and breathtaking path that has been laid before me. Paving that road on the narrow highway of holiness. Not looking right or left or in my life, not looking behind at the pain and struggle for fame, fortune to replace the pain I have endured and embraced.

As a well known song says, I am no longer a slave to sin. It is true and it is not an instantaneous process for me. My past beginning now being seen as straying off that path I have been set upon for decades. Saved from death many times and lovingly, steadily helped to become what I have been created for. Strength, true and right seen as the lighted path to the love of Christ.

It’s pretty good! Jack Gator. scribe

Descry (Who am I chapter 2)

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A word that means to catch sight of or discover. From old French decrier, to proclaim.

There is was in plain view! An instruction manual on calmness, peace, tranquility and a personality that is based on these things. How deep is it? How deep do you want to go?

The best chapter I reviewed would be one that enabled me the sight necessary to live that way.

I could quote the page numbers but my manual has different ones than yours. A few people give references to specific sections, even sentences that address the changes that are necessary, to actually change your outlook on life completely!You find it and read it, you’ll see! Good stuff. I’ll give you a general area to search. The whole book is filled with these things.

Before becoming aware of the necessity of change, I was moving through my life as most of us do. Living in my past, not aware and concentrating on experiences that made me what I thought I really was. They dominated my day and attitudes.

I really needed to express the hell I had been through and until I found references in the manual that showed me that is the life everyone goes through. Betrayal, rejection, offenses and forgiveness not shown nor expressed (mostly from me to you and myself). Most of these things are trauma and accompanied by fear. This manual shows how one man conquered all these.

This was the ‘software’ etched into my mind and thence a personality that it was me. Standing alone and not knowing all of us are the same. Shipwrecked and alone on our island. A Gilligan’s island with other fools just like us. Waiting for rescue from hearing the same old stories from our mates. Longing for beauty, real love given to and by us. How far away to the horizon and beyond those things seemed to be.

Gilligan was the only one who was considerate, loving and real. Not a fool but the main focus. It was his island after all. Bob Denver, great actor and in his life displayed a healthy and loving self image. Most of us missed it. So there they were, no land in sight but it is life. Adrift, isolated and afraid of being found out what we ‘know’ we are.

There is an interesting illusion of being at sea. As soon as land is not seen, you are in the middle of the ocean. Always in the middle no how many knots of speed your ship can go. So there we are, stranded in the middle of our ocean, speeding along and not getting anywhere. The illusion is that we are standing still while water and thus, our life is rushing along.

This is our life. Going fast and not changing, not getting anywhere new. Real life is found in the 43rd chapter of my manual. Section 5 is the one that I like. It’s an old manual written about nineteen hundred and fifty eight years ago. Most likely you have one of these at your house too. Land ho! Rescue and reality in sight! It’s life changing. I Read it until I awakened to life as it is meant to be lived. It’s the whole purpose of our life. Love, given, seen and welcomed. The main character in the book will whisper to you if you want Him too. He wrote the book after all. Rescue indeed!

It’s pretty good. Jack Gator

Who Am I?

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

It seems obvious on the surface of my mind. I am the sum of parts of my experiences. What is that calculations sum? It is an operating system that has ‘evolved’ over the years. That seems to be the ticket! All those bad things that happened in my childhood, the ones I have written about. The grade school and high school disappointments and abuse. Then the list gets longer and longer and somehow it seems that the hard stuff dominates.

As I drive a familiar route to town, I note that place and this house where offense originated and the old righteousness and desire for judgment and justification rises like that stuff in our septic tank. It smells badly and it seems like the sweet smell of revenge and anger to someone that deserves it. The hard parts are true. It did happen and we were wounded and insulted and sullied perhaps. It was wrong and we deserve justice.

Is that where I want my thoughts to stay today and tomorrow? Does anyone understand me because of these things? Of course they do and they cannot wait to tell you the same story. Over and over again. Everyone.

That’s not who we are, we are a new creation. We were made to be an image of our creator. We have gone astray and Just like our first ancestor, Adam, we go our own way. After all, our Lord told Adam and Eve if they ate from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, they would die. Well, they walked out of the garden, obviously still alive but were they? What died then? Their identity. Not the image of God. Some folks think that means God looks and acts just like us then except with bigger feet and hands. That’s not what was meant or written. He wants to walk with us. Give love away and laugh all the way to the 1st bank of eternal romance. Now Adam and his wife, Eve had to have an identity they created. Anger, frustration, loss, betrayal. The usual we use too. It seems our self identities we create are mostly “you don’t know the hell I’ve been through!” type. Of course that doesn’t work well because everyone has been there.

We were created to love Him and the people He made too. Now we create ourselves to ask the worst questions of each other. Do you love me? That is a question of want and need and our fear that we will be discovered as a deceiver. Hunger for approval, not love. Can you recollect another relative that is such? Go way back to the beginning. Did God really say?

A great speaker started me on this path of life and it is only recently I have understood what is the difference between darkness and light. My wounds and the constant unwrapping of the bandages to show them is indeed just an absence of light. My new way is to heal and show the light of Christ. Put off the old and put on the new. Show your light before men. Awaken and find yourself as a new creation. Able to move through the world, overcome with joy and spreading it about as a young girl throws flowers at a wedding before the bride and grooms path.

“When is the Messiah coming? Why don’t you ask Him yourself? He is outside the city gate healing people.” 1. He tells us to listen to Him and He will create a new man within and you will laugh and begin to hear His voice when He tells you to show other people these things. A sign of a wonder as joy replaces sorrow and loss we have embraced as long as we have been alive. “Tell me once again, I need to know you’ll never leave me, when my world grows dark. Take me in your arms and love me like the way you do” 2. It’s pretty good. Jack Gator

1. Father Anthony 4th century desert father 2. Jon Thurlow Special thanks to Dan Mohler for inspiration

Decisions in the Morning

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

Another early morning with sub=Zero temperatures and the house is a bit cold, down to 64 in the kitchen. The radiators are on and the big wood stove in the parlor has good coals but needs refreshing of some dry wood. A chore for the earliest to arise. Put away yesterdays dishes in the drainer, make the coffee and some toast. Then light up my computer screen and take the usual pills with some juice.(Always taking the anti-seizure pill as the first one, It tastes awful . Wash down the distasteful pills with orange juice. Every day. Always good and this winter especially. It’s comforting to have a schedule. And be warm.

Now, for a reading choice. David Hume’s ‘The standard of Taste’ or Suess’ ‘The birthday bird’ (perhaps Snetches) as a continuation of Hume’s opinion of the Koran. Maybe I’ll just check email and watch a movie about a Japanese bullet train intrigue. Or perhaps complete editing for the umpteenth time of my book with compilations of these columns at the end. Maybe all ot those things, the day is dawning and In the parlor it is warm and comforting.

It is a good clear morning as I extinguish the lights and watch the American flag and flying in the wind. Then I step out on the porch for a few pieces of dry wood and try not to wake anyone up with the clack of the living room door. Snow is piled up feet high this year. I Carefully grab a few logs and check to see if the cats have snuck out to persue the mouse family beneath the pine bush, next to the porch.

These rituals are stabilizing and and easy to do when I am half awake.. Get the keurig going and make a somewhat decent cup with the added ½ and ½. I Put the coffee on the left side of the desk and the warm toast with cinnamon on the right. Keyboard and mouse in front of me and monitor up about 8 inches on it’s shelf with a accumulated pens, paper clips, jump drives, pocket knives, small speakers and headphones. A rather clumpy mess but familiar. A junk drawer right in front of me.

Are you getting the picture? I am an Asberger survivor. My favorite movie, ‘The accountant’ featuring another ritualistic man with a gifting of oddity. Especially the part of sniffing his fingers just before he does his work. Autism spectrum’s are similar. I did have a problem relating in childhood and still use fabric to stimulate calmness and concentration. It’s complicated, an old friend called it ‘pointing’ and that’s pretty accurate. Ask me if you are interested. My wife Julie, is completely at home with it as is my youngest son.

Perhaps now I will start on a column based on Hume’s razor sharp analysis of Plato/Aristotle but that seems a bit foggy until the second cup of java has been drunk. My readers will either enjoy the writing or get confused a bit as I can be until I had read some of those books for the third or fourth time.

I have been called an obsessive intellectual with nearsightedness in several ways. I like to refer to these things as entertainment and stimulated analysis. My family just rolls their eyes verbally and are used to that too. If you find this particular column a bit familiar, perhaps you are as odd as I am?

Psychiatric pigeon holes have to include the roost for the pigeon and the newspaper on the bottom of the cage. If you understand that analogy you are more akin to me than you think. Ritual is stabilizing and necessary to this world’s ways. Grounding might be another way to describe it. It works. It has been a part of my life since childhood and there is no ‘cure’. There are some side effects which can be dealt with. Through good and acurate advice from professional counseling I found I was subconciously driven by fear and rejection. Perceived threats is one of my reactive situations.

My counselor taught me how to read the triggers and the road signs. I have six tenths of a second to make a decision of fight or flight and part of that time to realize there is no threat at all. It’s a good thing for me to know. I usually would choose flight. Suddenly running out, slaming the door and often driving off fast and muttering to myself about something said that was not meant to hurt me at all. Rather awkward to say the least. Scary sometimes too.

I pray that this column is illuminating someone’s behavior and at least, illuminating their friendship with me. My family is very gracious with me and this is indeed, a gift from the Lord to give me a family that will understand and put up with me. I have gotten better at sitting still and listening, talking. There is a humerous line in Monty Pyton’s movie about getting better. I can hear you laughing right now, but if it doesn’t register, I can fill you in. Fiddlingnorm@gmail will get you in touch with me.

Life is good and my best friend Jesus understands everything. He always answers my call for help, and I always need lot’s of it! I do need reminding at times to rely on Him instead of my own understanding. It’s pretty good. Jack Gator.

Delivery Truck Parked at World-Mart

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There are ramifications to the recent shortage of shelf items at many stores. People know this well as it is common knowledge. ‘Out of Stock’ as, regretfully our local store owner relates. The industry of supply was severely stricken and the first sign was panic buying of toilet paper. Perhaps the usage of a ‘blip-vert’ on the national news that told people to rush and buy? The experimental process was a success and the masters of war were pleased with the propaganda machine they bought. The plan to wipe us out had begun.

From the very beginning of the communicable bio-weapon, fear began to invade the world. Isolation and confusion reigned. Corrupt government officials quickly took the reigns of civilization and began destroying everything they could. Agencies, edicts given (for our own protection of course) and spiraling inflation.

The development of a medical savior that didn’t. Continued control and pitting people against each other for not following the edicts of the commissars. Business’ began to crumble as they were shut down. Fines for opening a small restaurant were passed out by bureaucrats that used the weak will of the people to approve of them.

The strategy of requiring the whole world to hide their faces behind masks that had no effectiveness whatever. The weapon spread and the fuel of fear built flaming dread throughout the world. Children were at very low risk of contacting this weaponized virus but were also isolated, confused and ‘protected’ by medical experts that were not. A growing realization of reality among virologists throughout the world was publicly ridiculed. Social media was tightly regulated to eliminate truth which was labeled false news.

The medical industry made billions by creating an almost worthless, misnamed vaccine that didn’t. The only protection was natural immunity generated by people’s immune systems. Protests were quickly stamped out and the national media branded the un-vaccinated as criminals and those that refused to wear the useless masks and get the shots were denied entrance to transportation, hospitals and schools. Shunned and hated. Booster shots that did nothing and supposedly gave more protection were quickly brought to the fray.

Then the weapon began to fade away as immunity built. One point five percent of our loved ones were buried and a new government attempt began to start over with another ‘deadly’ disease. However,it didn’t work this time and only a particular type of men were affected. The earlier damage was already done with the perfect medical theater created by the stealth laboratory in China. A bio-weapon that brought the world to it’s knees. Communists that despise us did this and we walked right into it and embraced their lies and hatred of freedom.

The Lord of us all has allowed this war to awaken us. He did not create this war, he allowed it. He whispers to us that He will always be near. We open our heart’s window to Him from the inside and He is the invader that gives us the faith to endure. Jack has been given a small book to show him this truth. A very old book about a man that refused to curse his creator for incredible suffering and loss. His name was Job and Jack recommends reading about him and his friends (and his wife). A lot of the world despises our Lord and that is to be expected. We are a the crooked man who walked a crooked mile and we need to look over our shoulder and see our Father running after us. Stop and turn, and embrace Him. He will show us how to love. It’s pretty good. Jack Gator

Rainbow Over the Garden

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There it is. A rainbow, in it’s original glory. Rain reflecting the colors of the spectrum. A symbol that the Lord said He would give us as a sign that He would never flood us again.

Quite a few people have taken the symbol and the miracle of refracted light and have used it to illuminate fractured light of their own designated symbols and message.

There are many people that also have taken the beauty of the rainbow and used it as a symbol of a product. Quite harmless but still, diminishing the astonishment a child sees. Do you remember the first time? I remember the first time my son saw it. He was fascinated with the arc and even went to England to meet Ken Ham that came up with building a 1:1 copy of Noah’s commanded Arc. Rainbows of covenant between us and the Lord.

Another outfit decided that the rainbow would instead be a symbol of freedom for them. The concept does not make sense in some ways. Freedom? from what? The rainbow’s only freedom is freedom from an earth flood.

The Governor of our state thinks it is appropriate to fly a rainbow flag for a month celebrating endorsing the hijacking of the beautiful rainbow image. For freedom to embrace perversion. How enlightened. It will please 5% of the population that are on board with birth control by having pregnant men.”How many fingers Winston?” (Brave New World)

Remember Judy Garlands song, ‘somewhere, over the rainbow’ ? That symbolized the promise. We of the last century (don’t ask) would never believed that someday our public schools would be teaching the ‘new’ symbol and language. No more does the rainbow offer a promise of protection and commitment. It now offers the symbol of flesh used for pleasure and a prime focus of our awokened sensibilities. Awoken to the real freedom of endorsement of a child being able to be whatever sex they want to be. When our new Supreme Court Justice cannot define what the word ‘woman’ really means, then we are on the way to Ephesus or Pompeii redux.

Maybe the words ‘on the way’ are inappropriate. That train is here, at the station, engine idling. It has already arrived . How about sliding open that boxcar with the really neat rainbow painted on it? Oh look, it’s already open but there’s nothing inside but an unpleasant odor. What’s in the rest of them? Famous authors and ‘experts’ for Newspeak magazine perhaps. Professors and liberal teachers to indoctrinate the children.

That open boxcar in particular had a whole wardrobe for the King! Splendid it is said. A veritable rainbow of color and coordinated accessories. The parade has already started and has startled one young boy…”the King doesn’t have any clothes on!” He is walking around, prideful in his power. Naked and seen as a fool. You and I know the difference between men and Women. Counterfeit money is in the till. Try and spend it. Jack Gator Scribe

Are you Experienced? Have you ever been Experienced? a.

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If perhaps, you have read some of Norm’s columns, you may have noticed a familiar ‘ring’ to most of them. It could be described as being experienced [sic]. There is an astonishment and puzzlement when I have one of these ‘experiences’ and remember them even with accents and vocal tones.

The time at a wonderful, thoroughly scholarly Bible study for example. It was early in the morning at the study and there was a mention of a prison sentence for one of our brothers. Of course, I had to bring up the fact that I had spent a ‘bit of time’ in a prison in southern Spain. Before I surrendered this experience to the large table of solid and mature men, I asked: “has anyone here ever been in Jail?” Silence. “Just for an hour perhaps as a mistake in a traffic violation?” All eyes were on me . Another awkward realization as to what different lives those men have lived in contrast to mine.

. Oh well, no use prevaricating about it. All of those things are known by Jesus and those things are what He has for us to build the charactor and our usefulness to Him and His plan.

So I explained how it goes with guards and camaraderie in the ‘bull pen’. It was only six months at hard labor (summer in southern Spain gets a bit hot) but it felt awkward in the telling. As if I was tainted somehow OR more holy because I was a worse sinner than they were. Awkward because I was one of them that and also now I embrace the Truth and Beauty. I envy them a bit but not too much. Envy is not nice either. They missed out on a few things, things that sometimes result in a maturity and understanding of the world we live in.

The stories of Peter and Saul come to mind. They claimed they were the worst of sinners and I feel in am in good company with those men. Aren’t we all? There is an admission that eases the pain of being such a bad person. All the guns and drugs and the things polite people don’t talk about when military men seek employment. Sinful things. The easy sins to recognize. The so called ‘small sins’ of omission or even thoughts of enjoyable bad behavior are just as bad. Lust and greed are easy traps for us. There is a rescue in my story.

Someone that stole money from my wallet that was lost at Tractor Supply, but they turned in the wallet! But that doesn’t change any judgment of the theft does it? Half way efforts are pitiful. Don’t misunderstand me. I was thankful that all my credit cards and license were untouched. It took awhile for my to forgive the thief and thank them (whoever it was) for just taking that two hundred dollars.

Another example: Cursing that old driver that is going too slow instead of ramming them doesn’t change anything. I am working on that one, having pretty good success too. It only takes a few seconds to repent the words or even the thoughts. It still takes time. Most often, I am the slow driver and sometimes get a hand salute as I am passed or a friendly honk of the horn! The unburned hydrocarbons that linger as I drive on are a bit annoying but I don’t mind. Too much. perhaps I mutter about a bad catalytic converter as I breathe in the fumes. Remembering the old speed limit signs of yesteryear’s. They had two speed limits on them. Night and day limits. The nightime one was black and ten miles an hour less. I usually use the nighttime limits all the time. It is hard to go slower than 60 or 65 that is common. I mutter “scoff laws!” which of course justifies my legal but irritating behavior.

Living a holy life seems impossible and the good news is that it is impossible. I am doing much better for certain. I am not trying to kill someone and have not done too much of my old life stuff. A little bit perhaps which in the eyes of the judge is the same as all the rest of us. “Thank God I am not like that Tax collector over there!” An old quote of judging another. Same deal. We are all bad even though we think in degrees of badness.

Yes, I am a bad person. But the best part is knowing it! Not the I’m better now thought but the thoughts of being directed more and more to listen to the Lord and live the life He has for me. Small things that are actually good! Someone we all know did live a perfect life and gave his perfect life for me!

I am saved from judgment. All my sin? How can this be? God dying for me. I was drowning and a hand reached down and pulled me out. All I had to do was yell for help and mean it. An absurd story describes a drowning man refusing that hand reaching down from shore. “Oh, it’s easy for you!” Same way I used to look upon those men I described earlier in this column. Grasping those cold steel bars and looking for someone to save me. I didn’t know who was right there with an outstreached arm and a mighty hand.

This week I got in the pool a bit early and by the time a new acquaintance showed up, all the lap lanes were full. That quiet and undeniable voice told me to surrender my lane to this man. Three times (an old number of denial) I shrugged that action and instruction off and finally at the shallow end of the pool, I stopped and asked the man if he would like to use my lane. “that’s OK, I can wait!” was his gracious reply. Three or four minutes later a lane opened up.

The important part was our surrender. It felt right. It was simple really. It wasn’t easy though. It was enough obedience to expand the relationship between us too. We still do it. It delighted me that I could actually do that and mean it. One small step and the feeling that freedom can be found in Jesus. It’s pretty good..

Jack Gator, Scribe a. Jimi Hendrix

Chosin Reservoir

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It was unexpected. The usual surprise when the phone call came. The funeral was up north where he lived. The smiling in-law and survivor of war and crime was being ‘put to rest’ next week and can “you come?”

His pain is gone, but the ‘rest’ part seems ambiguous to me. As though death was a train station you just sacked out in, waiting for the eternity express to rumble in. Like the one in the movie ‘Matrix’ for those of you that have wondered about that place. What’s on the ticket you have in your hand? They always say ‘Judgment seat, last stop’. The ticket also says ‘payment pending’ Better get on the train and get a good seat. Be a slight delay at the Judgment station. The conductor says there is a crowd there. He also says ‘today’ with a slight smile. If you know what is coming, it gives you a sharp uncertainty, everyone does it the conductor says. Open mouth and realization that the truth was told to you. “Did I make the cut?”

So with this imagery in mind, I softly walked into the church building and took a pew seat towards the front. The front rows had the soldier’s sons and the family, and us of course. It was a different ceremony, a different faith stream but with the same feeling. I did not know the drill, so I just read and reread a passage in my NKJ Bible. Matthew 22: 32..”God is not the God of the dead but the God of the living” This was a passage of those that will live forever. I had no doubt that this rough and tumble Marine was going to be with his Savior. We had talked with him earlier in the year. There was certainty about him being saved from condemnation by his faith in Jesus.

At the end of communion, the Priest requested the eulogy to be given. The two sons looked at each other and then turned and looked at me . I took my Bible and ascended to the pulpit. I read, almost from memory the few lines of scripture I had just read over and over. I finished the short reading and then began to honor the fallen Korean war vet.

I saw the VFW guys in full dress and the colonel and the bagpiper nearby. Solemn but focused. On me. And the casket with the American flag draped perfectly over it.

I thought about the time when we asked him to turn down the TV for our young sons sitting with us. He replied in no uncertain terms that we were in his house and would do what he pleased. A little rough language tossed in for emphasis. Then afterwards we all went the Post and played pool. Our youngest son made a pretty good bank shot and Dad-in-law offered a fireball shot of whiskey to him. our son was about 15.

Those images were set aside as I eulogized about the fallen Marine as a man of bravery and honor. A Chosin reservoir survivor in the Korean war, followed by decades of police work in Milwaukee. It felt right to bring those things to light. His buddies at the VFW knew him well. His license plate read: I’ll buy one’ His other car read: ‘Stop 4 one’ Cops all knew him and they also know about survivors and trauma. They made sure he got home from the post.

We followed the casket behind the Piper and experienced the seven men shoot blanks three times. I thanked the Colonel and then went in for the lunch. The Priest was walking next to me and I said: “Father, thank you for speaking of our savior” He turned to me and said: “Yes! It’s all about Jesus!” I will never forget that.

There was a proposal by his sons to give the VFW a budget of a thousand dollars for that days bar tab. We said OK. We did not go. Soon afterwards it came time to go back up north and figure out what to do with the estate. My wife’s brother handled the record keeping and we all spoke up for what we wanted. The sons wanted the vehicles and I wanted the man’s sidearm, an Ithaca 1911 .45. The Grip handles were well worn and there was some cleaning to do. It appeared to have been used somewhat.

Other things were attended to and it was pretty equitable between the six of us.

The house was cleaned and I got some Pendleton shirts and some slippers. The freezers were emptied and there was quite a lot of steaks and roasts to be salvaged. I also spoke up for the powerful garden tractor that was top of the line. Stuff like that, most of us know what it is like. Left behind has a different meaning.

We have all been through this and I wonder what it will be like when my precious instruments and other stuff is given to the family and friends. None of it will pay that ticket we all get when we get on that train for the Judgment station. We will tremble and yet look forward to our Friend that has spoken to us many times in different ways. There are some tickets that can’t be paid and then there are the rest that will say ‘paid in full’ The next stop is eternal joy but the unpaid tickets will have to go on for the Perdition station. ‘End of the line!’ Lets talk about that ticket payment sometime, it’s pretty good. Norm

The first signs of things to Come

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

Signs of otherness. Different ways of looking at the world. Wondering about the people involved in these things. Speculative questions, because history of things of the past can only be derived from writing of eyewitnesses (the best type) or records from the time and place. The more corroborating evidence,the more assured history can be derived. Autobiographies are the best. They have to be believed of course. Fiction does not read as history does. Historical accounts usually have odd things and twists of life that authenticate them.

A few examples: I had the earliest General Class Amateur radio license when I was in grade school. The examiner at the downtown courthouse said that. That examiner didn’t specify whether it was just in the state or the nation. Thirteen words a minute Morse code and the ability to sketch a power supply and an oscillator circuit. Things like that. Laws and rules of radio frequencies and basic electronics/electrical knowledge to round it off.

I remembers too asking my 3rd grade teacher when the class would be studying soil and earth crust stratification. She laughed and said “later for that” Odd, I thought. I really wanted to know those things. ‘Don’t get ahead of yourself and the class’ was also said. Don’t stand out was the message. It won’t go well.

I wondered why his classmates talked about leaves in trees and stars and other things far away. I was very nearsighted and finally was examined and got my first set of glasses. ‘Four Eyes!’ Bullies, finally finding an in road to beating me up. My ‘favorite’ was a Croatian boy. Face washing in the snow was one of the highlights of winter. All that young boy wanted was to have a friend. I was perfect, an outcast and very different. Third grade children do not talk about ionization of the atmosphere and radio signals blocked from the sunspots. I turned out pretty good and I really know now what I have been prepared for. All that curiosity I was gifted with, all those other gifts. These things were designed to help me write about another man. A man that I don’t need a radio to communicate with, a man I can hear in my mind and spirit. Clearly.

That man lived a long time ago, and did such astonishing things that are written down in a very reliable history book. Quite a few books actually. That young man, not a child, but a young man of no reputation, did things that no one has ever done since. He was at a social event, a wedding with his Mother, and the guy who was throwing the party ran out of refreshments. A social blunder of the first sort, especially at so important an event. The revelers had drunk all the wine and it was getting embarrassing for that host.

The young man’s mother, she knew his father very well. She pointed out the problem then, and her son told her it was “not His time”. An odd thing to say of his life from then on. Never the less, Mom told the waiters to do whatever her Son told them to do. As recorded, after a short time, her Son told the waiters to fill up all the empty jugs with water. A lot of wine jugs and a lot of water. One of the guests drew a flagon of the fluid from one of the jugs and pronounced it the best wine of the celebration. “Most hosts save the cheap box wine for the end! This wine is exquisite, the best I have ever tasted!” Water to wine, bypass the vineyard and all that messing about with stomping grapes and aging. This was the very beginning of the young man’s tale. Just a peek behind the curtain of eternity. So, Discerning historical events isn’t too hard to do. No one would make up a story like that.

The things that I write about are similar. No one can make up stories like that. If you know where and how to look, you know. Other historians, distant in the past, or right now on this page, want to tell truth. It is so fascinating and astonishing to discover a world outside of ourselves that tells us who we are. Tells us what we are and why we are here.

Of course, the young man was Jesus and his Mother was Mary. His Father I leave to you to discover. It’s a great family tradition. Don’t get confused, Just talk to Jesus. He’s pretty good. Jack Gator