Always, the phone call from the hospital. Telling Gator’s mom that his dad had been taken to the big hospital downtown. Again. The downside to bravery at the Fire Department. Running into yet another fire, burning building to rescue someone. Now and then a fellow fireman overcome while manning the nozzle. Dad always said that the warehouse fires with cardboard were the worst. The flames roaring up all the small channels in the boxes creating an incredible firestorm.

It was from Dad Gator that Jack learned the way of life to conquer fear. To run towards it with determination and the shield of honor. Jack’s Grandpa was a retired fire chief and it had taken a toll on him. Reticent and very somber and unapproachable, Grandpa Gator was the walking wounded. Too many men lost. Too many people caught up in tragedy that could not be rescued in time.

The old manhood of Firemen and Policemen. Serving the city by putting their lives on the line. There was, of course, rivalry and pretty good natured for the most part. Name calling in humor: ‘Hose stretcher!’ ‘Meter maid!’ Things that men do to create a bond with one another in dangerous jobs.

So Gator learned early what facing fear looked like. His dad was wounded too with all the adrenaline rushes at two am as he geared up and hopped into the back wheel of the big ladder truck. Out of the fire barn and the siren wailed down the empty streets of the big city. It popped out at home at times and the big city guys used alcohol to calm down. Gator’s dad was unavailable emotionally for most of Jack’s life. A fireman that was burned out.

Much later, Jack found the lessons from his Dad valuable. Run towards fear, give no quarter to danger of any sort. Be bold and put it all on the line. Calmly telling that big thief in Oakland that fighting to the death was the only way Jack would allow the theft. Replying to the big prison guard that ‘dancing in the isolation cell might be fun’. The time the small town toughs came after midnight and Jack walked side by side with his best friend towards them with their tent poles disguised as shotguns.

Stay calm and mean it. Jack had a dream of walking by a town that had a big gateway over the road going down to it. He could hear screams and awful danger coming from below in the town. The urge to run was strong. Jack turned around and ran down the road to the town. It was just a dream but it felt like a test he was going through.

Later in life, Jack had to face his own fears that were now, just reactions with no basis in reality. Now he would run away from conflict thinking he would be killed by a runaway railroad car (another true life situation) or worse. Complete and utterly false perceptions of his family and friends that was very confusing to everyone, including Gator. “Too much Trauma in your life” the therapist said. He taught Jack how to discern reality. Six tenths of a second reaction time to decide what is almost always false. Shut down the escape. Move forward. Jack was in a battle with himself and he had to run towards the battle within. Not easy, necessary.

Now, Jack lives within his destiny. Always looking towards the one thing that gives him strength to be the Gator he was meant to be. The living God that invites Jack into the secret place, the garden of love. It’s pretty good. Jack Gator

But we live in a world that has lost its appreciation for small things. We live in a world that wants things bigger and bigger. We want to supersize our fries, sodas, and church buildings. But amid all the supersizing, many of us feel God doing something new, something small and subtle. This thing Jesus called the kingdom of God is emerging across the globe in the most unexpected places, a gentle whisper amid the chaos. Little people with big dreams are re-imagining the world. Little movements of communities of ordinary radicals are committed to doing small things with great love.

…Shane Claiborne, The Irresistible Revolution, Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2006 p 25

And perhaps, as those who do not turn to God in petty trials will have no habit or such resort to help them when the great trials come, so those who have not learned to ask Him for childish things will have less readiness to ask Him for great ones. We must not be too high-minded. I fancy we may sometimes be deterred from small prayers by a sense of our own dignity rather than of God’s.      

… C.S. Lewis (1898-1963), Letters to Malcolm, Harcourt, Brace & World, 1963 p 23

The smallest things become great when God requires them of us; they are small only in themselves; they are always great when they are done for God, and when they serve to unite us with Him eternally.

    … Francois Fenelon (1651-1715), Letters to Men and Women, P. Owen, 1957 p 55

We bless the life around us far more than we realize.  Many simple, ordinary things that we do can affect those around us in profound ways: the unexpected phone call, the brief touch, the willingness to listen generously, the warm smile or wink of recognition.  We can even bless total strangers and be blessed by them.  Big messages come in small packages.                                                                             …Rachel Naomi Remen, M.D., My Grandfather’s Blessings, Riverhead Books, 2000 p 5

The true Christians are the true citizens, lofty of purpose, resolute in endeavor, ready for a hero’s deeds, but never looking down on their task because it is cast in the day of small things; scornful of baseness, awake to their own duties as well as to their rights, following the higher law with reverence, and in this world doing all that in their power lies, so that when death comes they may feel that humanity is in some degree better because they lived.

…Theodore Roosevelt (1858-1919), 26^th U.S. President, The Strenuous Life, P. F. Collier & Son, 1900 p 272

  IT’S PRETTY GOOD. JACK

After several years at sea, expectations were always high with Norm when a seaport was coming into view. A place where a ship could anchor out and liberty sections were announced. Sometimes, I would have to man my duty station so other men in my division could go ‘On the Beach’.

Every seaport has a flavor, remembered by the salty ones. Izmir Turkey was known for pushy vendors trying to buy your pants. Odd to everyone on board. Just for the materiel of the wool it seemed. One could not imagine a Turk wearing a pair of Dress Blues. Malta was odd with many tobacco shops every where. I bought a clay pipe and some pipe tobacco. It made me feel connected with the past. 3 riggers with a man at the tiller haveing a smoke with a gentle breeze coming to port.

Rhodes was only remembered by the absence of the Colossus at the breakwater. There were other images which I have decided at this time to put on the back shelf of memory. Villa France, Palma De Majorca. Home port was the best as that was where I had a small apartment and civilian clothes.

It was Naples, Italy where I began to feel at home in a way. Learning a little Italian and just walking about. My apartment was on the top floor of the Galleria Umberto with good views of the galleria below. In a cross for a city block with the glass dome above me. I met a swell English gal in a coffee shop and she agreed to accompany me on the local train to view Pompei. It was a mistake. The pornographic scenes painted on the crumbling walls were enough to put her off. Fascinating place with all the remants of body imprints where they layed as the Vesuvius errupted and buring the city with volcanic ash. Never saw that young woman again. She saw a young man with a nice Harris tweed jacket at first meeting. Perhaps her impressions changed a bit. The train ride there was most pleasant, the ride back was a bit less so.

Decades later, Norm and his wife Julie went to a seaport that was a bit over a hundred miles away from the home ranch in Wisconsin. Duluth.

Big ships coming and going and the big air horns blasting the letter G (dah dit dah dah) with thrilling low bass notes as they hove into view to signal the lift bridge and say hello. I like that sound. Akin to the big bass notes at the largest pipe organ in the world, run by air. They are similar to the EMI magnets which I have also enjoyed, which astonishes most everyone. “You liked that? The thruming and the tight space too which reminded me of the submarines I briefly was assigned to from Basic training. Tight quarters, in the suface Navy too. More stories I have written about.

At the local seaport it was the same thing I experienced decades ago at sea, but with a complete satisfaction this time. Myself and Julie were broke when we left this seaport but very pleased at the experience. Breakfast with linen and several courses of souffle and perfectly baked rolls and new forks after every course. Ocean front views from the sumptuous room and a steam bath in the bathroom. Unbelievable waterfront gardens and gracious servants and hosts. Expensive. Worth it as you can surmise.

A short walk to the port itself with more things to buy and shops eagerly extending welcomes at their Doors. Glassblowing, exotic ice cream concoctions, carriage rides and fountains akin to Trevi in Rome. A violin shop in a large building with expensive instruments and a very erudite and friendly proprietor. Excellent wares and again, money given with satisfaction by us. A very nice instrument built with Spalded wood that Julie was eager to play.

The best part was when I began to connect and experience God’s presence among the throngs that were present when a ship bigger than my Navy ones was leaving port. Close up at the seawalls at the canal as the ship slowly steamed by. Watching the churning aft as it headed out to sea.This time the hatches secure with the loaded iron ore. Sea gulls circling for the anticipated food preparation aftermath. Of course, there is spilled popcorn for them near the breakwater too.

It was pleasant with the crowds, the best part was that I recognized people that were in love. Something about them would prompt me to boldly approach these strangers and state: “You love Jesus, don’t you!” One hundred percent response that day. A small sign, even a cross seen or the glimpse of a lingering smile. The upturned cheek line perhaps. Mostly a prompt from the Holy Spirit to tell them. Several older women remarked; “How did you know?!” “It shows” I would respond. There was audible delight as they would turn to a companion excitedly and begin smiling as they talked.

It was easy this time, the place was full of believers. They were Just experiencing the joy of spring and a lot of freedom. Faces exposed now and seen with joy. It’s pretty good. Jack Gator Scribe

The missionary, out in ‘the field’, we have all heard the term and some of us have been one. There are so many ‘fields’ in the world. Gator has an image of this field as wading through a jungle or trudging about a very different terrain in Africa. It seems everyone that has been asked, suggested to about this field, thinks of deepest, darkest Africa. Complete with Indiana Jones types and indigenous people that can kill you in many various ways if you make a social faux pax. The favorite one seems to usually be a blowgun dart or a bent tree branch with spikes. An occasional deep pit with the same spikes from the local spikes and thorns section of the local Fleet of Feet store.

But, there is another mission field, and it does not usually require a stand by ticket. Of course, flying on the frayed cuff involves sleeping in various airport terminals in various positions. Pulling chairs together or dreaming of a quarter activated storage locker that slides out about six feet. Those dreams can come unexpectedly while sagging between those chairs. There are also predators in the terminals which could sweet talk a Chicago cop into taking a limo ride to a fanciful and benevolent location with soft pillows and a mint on said pillow. The world needs missionaries in many locales, not just in far away places. Right in one’s own neighborhood actually.

The Gator family created a mission in their area of the world that gave families a bounty of food for ten bucks.

There are professional food gleaners that acquire food from distributors. Food that is out of date or about to be out of date. Some foods too that just don’t move as fast as thought. Pickled eels, fresh Beetle juice (two stars for that one), Dried mushroom flour, things like that. Gator has a ‘best by date’ that indicates he is prime for sale as well. About ten years ago. The food in reality is good fruit, veggies, breads and often meats as well.

The best part of the ‘Feed The Meek’ mission was the two Gators (Mrs and Mr) that held a meeting before the food was set out on tables. In another room with chairs, filled with people with shopping bags, carts and cardboard boxes. Eager at times to hear what these intriguing reptiles had to say, they listened. There was nothing else they could do. Sort of a standby terminal for flying into the next room and getting your ten bucks worth of good stuff.

So, the Gators talked to the room about how the food was obtained and why the volunteers showed up to help. Even carrying out the bounty to trunks and back seats parked nearby. Skycaps from a different sky locale.

Mr and Mrs Gator earnestly talked about the King who was nearby and had talked them into starting the mission and how the roomful of people could talk to this King themselves. He even touched some of them who had various physical and social ills with the ability to convey a feeling of worthiness. Often these people would be astonishingly healed of these ills. Returning recipients of the bounty had good stories to tell and it enhanced the expectation of extraordinary results. It also brought the King into sharp focus and reality. Truth.

A mission field right in the same country the Gators lived in! Only ten clicks away from their modest ranch and it felt good and right. They even got some of that good food too. So, you see, the mission field can be across the planet or in your own neighborhood. The key is to be available when the King lets you know of an opening that requires some one just like you. A special person that is perfect for the job. You. Completely unique, one of a kind and the mission can involve hundreds, thousands of people or just one. You. It seems the King is not interested in numbers of served or servants. His standards are just and true, just for you. He loves it when the ones he whispers to or writes love letters to, answer Him with an eager ‘Yes!’ Listen for His voice. He speaks softly and at times speaks right into your soul, unmistakable, and exciting. You can say no of course but the task is suited for you and the rewards are simply the Beloved Kings to give. Jesus is the King. It’s pretty good. Jack Gator

It was sort of unexpected. The usual surprise when the phone call came. The funeral is up north where he lived.

The smiling in-law and survivor of war and crime was being ‘put to rest’ next week and “could you come?”His pain is gone, but the ‘rest’ part seems a bit pretentious to Gator. As though death was a train station you just sacked out in, waiting for the eternity express to rumble in. Sort of 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 next stop. The ticket also says ‘payment pending’ Better get on the train and get a good seat. Might be a slight delay at the Judgment station. The conductor says there is a bit of a crowd there. He also says ‘today’ with a slight smile. If you know what is coming, it gives you a bit of a sharp uncertainty, everyone does it they say.

So with this imagery in mind, Gator softly walked into the church building and took a pew seat towards the front. The front row had the soldiers sons and their wives. It was a different ceremony, a different faith stream but with the same feeling. Gator did not know the drill, so he just read and reread a passage in his NKJ Bible.

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

I could see the VFW guys in full dress and the colonel and the bagpiper nearby.

I thought about the time when we asked dad 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. Young Gator made a pretty good bank shot and Dad-in-law offered a fireball shot of whiskey to him. Young Gator was about 14. These images were set aside as Gator eulogized about the fallen soldier as a man of bravery and honor. A Chosin reservoir survivor in the Korean war, followed by decades of police business in Milwaukee. It felt right to bring those things to light.

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!” Gator 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 but did not attend the after funeral gathering there. Soon afterwards it came time to go back up north and figure out what to do with the estate. Mrs. Gator’s brother handled the record keeping and we all spoke up for what we wanted. The sons wanted the vehicles and Gator 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 Gator got some Pendleton shirts and some slippers. The freezers were emptied and there was quite a bit of steaks and roasts to be salvaged. Gator 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.

We have all been through this and Gator thinks what it will be like when his unneeded 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 cannot 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. Jack Gator

Who indeed would be more capable of preaching the ‘good news’ to anyone than Gator himself? Just about every rule that the Lord Himself gave Gator has been broken and dashed to pieces. Even the murder rule which Gator sought to break as he slithered around his old neighborhood. Gator’s thoughts broke Gator’s soul.

Looking for the man that deserved killing. Anger and retribution raged within him and the old German pistol, tucked in his backside was to be the tool. Fully loaded with 9mm hollow points. Cocked and locked. The offender was never seen, but Gator’s gang leader told him the job had been accomplished in a different way. A way of terror only as a prolonged, inevitable execution can be. Gator was glad. He raped my woman.

Now today, we watch and read of looting, destruction and again of guns and death. “If only they were given the opportunity to succeed” No, they are just doing what we would do if we lived there. “ Those people need a good education and healthy surroundings” How is that working for world leaders and wall street? We would be seated on thrones of wealth if opportunity was given. Corrupted, Just a little bit so no one will notice or care.

Same humans, just change broken windows and free stuff for derivatives and broken mortgages. More profit again.

‘If I ran things’ (Dr. Suess) I would give them/us money and free colleges. Just like us, ‘those people’ would leverage it into something a little more useful. A little profit over the expected. Maybe a lot of good connections to leverage law to my advantage (we call it lobbying) “Don’t lecture me! It’s perfectly legal!”

We are ‘those people’ We use excuses just like them and everyone does. I deserve better, it’s my right! They hate me. Why? Because ‘those people’ remind us of what we are inside. Broken and in denial of it.

After all we argue, look at the lions and the coyotes. They are just like us, Darwinian? Evolved into possessing the fang and claw to survive. There is a subtle but severe difference, we know that destroying life that is just like us is wrong. There is a built in knowledge that there is a right and wrong. We ‘kill’ each other with our knowledge of not being mere flesh and blood. Capable of higher things and mercy and love. “I’m no Hitler” we say. That’s good, One was quite enough. The majority of my neighbors would say so too. Unless I lived ‘over there’ in WWII and thought Adolph had the right idea. “Tell a lie once and it is seen so. Do it hundreds of times and it becomes truth”1.

As Gator realizes again after studying from Socrates to C.S. Lewis, all the twists and turns of philosophy turn us to observing our minds in different ways. ‘this is the right way to look at reality’ Good logic and often leading to discovery of good things. Not necessarily to the solution of finally seeing this reality of life as our brokenness, in desperate need of a solution. Somehow to do so much more than ‘forgiving ourselves’ once more for breaking a law that goes way beyond theft and our own judgment of others for being bad people.

Bad just like us. Sinful is a good term to use. We are all guilty and in need of a solution, to be whole and what we have been created for. Not red of fang and claw but worthy of loving only like one man ever did.

Ask that man and he will make you fresh and new if you really mean it. Jesus can do this for you.

It’s pretty good. Jack Gator

1. Joseph Goebbels

There was a time when a rural township with a large amount of land was threatened by one of their neighbors in a most unusual way. It was at first a subtle threat, an undercurrent of incredible dimensions.

The threat came, very surprisingly from the township’s own of landed gentility, a solid and respected farmer with a century of landed property. There seemed to be nothing behind the threat except a thirst for money. Incredulously, the people began doing the only thing they knew how to do. They prayed, they read the scriptures and met in their homes and church’s to see what the Lord was saying to everyone. Some folks began pointing fingers with gossip about that farmer in spite of the Lords gentle but firm commandment not to do so.

I was led to visit that farmer and that usually wasn’t done as he was busy managing and being an appointed chairman of the large township. It was a lonely and somewhat frightening experience for me. That chairman was known to be a man of explosive temper. Still, I was accepted as I knew his father as a close neighbor from a half century ago and a conversation began. It was made clear I respected him and that character assassination and gossip was not on my agenda. It was my plea for honor to prevail.

Much talk of earlier times took place and even a bit of laughter about that man’s humorous and friendly father. But after a misunderstanding between them upon a second meeting, a phone call with bad language and cursing my faith came forth. Surprised, still persisted.

I brought a tonic of elderberry juice prepared by my wife. On my first visit I saw a persistent cough. I never got the empty jar back. On my fourth visit, I brought raspberries . this gift was dismissed as he told me he had them in his garden. ” Give them to my son” who was standing nearby at the machine shed. Now, legal battles between that that chairman and the people began to get unpleasant and expensive.

Billboards, lawn signs and legal briefs of all sorts. We have an attorney who lives here and donates his time.

The courts move slowly as most courts do and there seemed no way to go back to the pleasant life of all who live here. There are many lakes and cottage owners that use them in the summer. At a town hall meeting the ex chairman shouted ” The lake is dying!” It was over the top of arrogance from a man that was assumed a steward of the land. His home and hundreds of acres of land are not located near any of the lakes. He must have a really efficacious hvac system on his shopping list.

The battle between him and our neighbors continues even though it seems hopeless. Our legal battle for his opening the gate and selling 40 acres to the hog farm developers removed his chairman’s position and resentment continues to grow.

Whatever the courts decide and the underhanded and stiff necked way the former chairman acted and talked are going to be remembered like a forest fire . That memory will linger long afterwards. The family name is now tarnished. In no uncertain terms I told him there were three options available. Keep pressing in and succeed and your family name will be despised. Keep pressing in and loose the battle and the same result will occur. Third choice. Publicly announce that his plan was not good and he would most likely be voted back in as township chairman. He did an excellent job before.

There are celebratory events now over the near miss but the he is now in a jail of his own. It could have been much better for him. Wealth is seductive and destructive and that man is despised by his neighbors but his sons are viewed with suspicion as to what may come next.

Another farmer also is a political figure is another county south of ours, and also closed his fields for snowmobile traffic He was angry that the bad publicity would thwart t his plan to do the same thing in his township. A child’s behavior indeed. Another family name that is tainted.

The original plan is now being challenged by all enjoined people and the plan itself is being brought to light as even more insidious as first appearances were. Pollution of a well used and known river in the watershed threatened.

The foreign country, China, is well funded and connected to the state legislators that seduced my neighbor is working their way to still possess and exploit beautiful country side. It has already gained foothold in neighboring states.

The whole countryside is being destroyed by the high powers and it seems there are not many ways to stop this disaster. Parts of Iowa are in a no breathe zone and western Minnesota people cannot have outdoor picnics, dry laundry or even keep their windows open. Hog manure from huge factories have already ruined the air and water down south from North Carolina.

It’s a need for pork for China and the butchered carcasses are shipped in refrigerated containers to them. 25 thousand hogs on 40 acres with 8 million waste pools is normal for these ‘farms’ It is a foreign invasion of sorts and the ‘profits’ of the exploitation are motivated by Chinas need for the resources of our county. The state legislators are bought by well funded lobbyists with campaign funds.

“Get big or get out” creates a farmers dreams of fortune and dazzling profits. It’s seemingly unstoppable but there is one far above everything and everyone that owns everything anyone can see. He owns the the cattle on all hills and He owns the hills too. By the way, He owns the planets and stars. After all, the Lord made everything that has been made.

Petitions have been given in various ways to the Lord and it is known that He Hears and responds to each and every one. The response is up to Him and the people to then listen. The world once again awaits awesome revelation and direction. At one time, the God was asked which beautiful name would be given to the people to call upon Him. He answered, “I am”.

Jack Gator

It’s a common play yard device, the sandbox. Castles and moats and endless small buckets packed full. My curiosity found me wandering about the internet, seeking wisdom on the makeup of the sun. Stepping out of the sandbox a little and wondering what some of the other prognosticators have to say.

Plasma and sunspots and coronas oh my! Probes abound on the moon and mars, sending information on the astounding makeup of our cosmos. Of course the inevitable billions of years pops up as though there is an atomic clock complete with seasons of bombardment and planetary wobble. I admit the science of construction is sound. Speculative origins and reasons for origins are a bit dicey in the science. The most popular one these days is the ‘Big Bang’. You know the one. A big firecracker went off somewhere and all the see-able universe came out of that explosion. Carl Sagan and his billions and billions of years. A cosmic lay-away plan for evolution.

“I think, therefore I am an intellectual” So many voices vying us, telling us how old, how far, and yet, how unknowable. Always from as far as we have historical writings. I am, of course, assuming that up until fairly recently in the billion years the earth was created that the impossible microbial and double helix ‘came into being’. It would seem that carved stones and historical records were just not up to snuff to survive those millennia as we evolved from Reptiles I get on board with that one, but humor aside, , the bees and the flowers evolved at exactly the same time so both could continue to exist.

There has been found ancient beeswax (not the old candles in our kitchen drawers either) All speculation on the thinnest evidence for eons. Atheist writers such as Darwin, Wallace, Origen and Dawkins believed adamantly in their cleverness and intellect seeing things themselves that any thinking man (if they were as clever as they were) would doubtless agree with. We can add Steven Hawking to that group as well. Of course, all dead, they now know the truth as must we when our time comes.

I prefer the wager that Pascal wrote. Simple bet, really. If I believe in the Lord when I have lived, then when my life is over, I spent eternity with Him. If there is no God then nothing happens when I die. If I do not believe in God, when I die I spend eternity without Him in eternal misery. If He does not exist then nothing happens. The added plus is a changed and joy filled life if we look to God for His truth.

Not much of a bet for the unbeliever. Death means ∞ either way. It’s where we spend it that counts.

It has been an ‘interesting’ time here on earth for us and lately, it has actually gotten worse on a global scale. We are desperately wicked and we are getting used to it as the frog, slowly boiling, relaxes in the comfy hot tub. Why not just have our sun go nova and wipe out the whole mess of us and start over?

After all, we deserve it for our ways of worshiping ourselves instead of the obvious creator of all things. Time and again. Amazingly, the ‘astronomical price’ for all this horrible behavior we do, or even want to do has been paid. Talk about benevolent! God himself paid the price. There are many folk tales and fascinating fables such as Balder for one that tell this story. Echo’s of the real event. God dying and coming back to life. C.S. Lewis put it well in a fable, ‘The Chronicles of Narnia’. A fable that came to be true. It really happened and is documented in so many ways. God died and lived.

Remember Baal? That false god demanded children be burned alive to appease him. Now we still kill them, but have added a profit of selling their body parts. 68.1 million so far, a large amount from black neighborhoods. Our government adores this murder for profit and eliminating people they deem ‘non productive’ Planned Non-Parenthood or something like that it’s called.

He made us and all we see with a thought! I am glad He is merciful as well as wrathful. What is the tipping point for us? He has sent His Son fairly recently to show us the truth. It’s pretty good. Jack Gator

There the whole Gator family was, searching the ranch for Jack’s wallet. In the car door, where it usually resides. In the car, in the shop, in the house, on the driveway. Over and over. Feeling foolish and forgetful. “Where is the last place you were?” Lets see, I remember that Greta (Mrs. Gator)was trying boots out at the Boot Scoot Boot shop up the hill from town!

Jack remembered he had to use the bathroom there and Greta called them. A short time later, they called back and had found Gator’s wallet! What a relief. Quite a few rapid fire prayers before that good news. You know how they sound. Sort of a reverent muttering as everyone tears around, trying to do the impossible task set before them. Prayer is the best way to get close and hear God.

The next day, Jack went swimming (Gators favorite place-the pool) and swung by the Boot Scoot shop to pick up his wallet. There it was, next to the cash register, rubber banded and a note hooked on under the rubber band. YES! There it was, intact, all the credit cards and drivers license in it. The money pocket was completely empty though. Quite a bit of paper was in there, 160 dollars or so.

1. Who would find the wallet, take out the money (after opening it) and put it back where it was?
2. Why not just bring it up to the cashier after gleefully pocketing the cash?

A thinking thief of being identified as the finders keepers type. “well heck, you got it back!” Gator wonders about the time the whole family found a lot of 100’s on the sidewalk at one of the big box stores. After a little speculation on what that money would buy, they took it all inside and gave it to the store manager. He said they could most likely use the parking lot cameras to come up with the person that lost it. Temptation is strong with those finds but the lesson has been learned. Do unto others as you would have done to you. It really feels good long after that chain saw could have been bought.

Actually, taking the money in any situation like those has consequences that are off the thief’s radar. A knowledge of good and evil is a basic lesson, a basic premise of logic. This is a pivot point in our Post Modern world. A quote from Solzhenitsyn from The Gulag Archipelago, “Young people are acquiring the conviction that foul deeds are never punished on earth, that they always bring prosperity”

The money will soon be absorbed into the greater picture of the Gator’s budget but the memory will remain of the sad thief that will be punished. Because the post-modern world does not realize that there are absolutes. These things are basic precepts known for all times. Again from Solzhenitsyn: “ From the most ancient times justice has been a two-part concept; virtue triumphs and vice is punished”

The illusion, once again that the only values that matter to us are personal peace and prosperity. In a much bigger picture of our nation, the same thought prevails. In simple terms, Personal Peace means just to be let alone, not to be troubled by the troubles of other people…to have our personal lives undisturbed…prosperity or affluence means a life filled with things, and more things—success judged by and ever-higher level of material abundance. 1. Indeed, modern man has been found lacking and we are in trouble when our fellow man is someone to feed off of. Ask Gator about his eating habits. It’s not easy embracing truth and precepts unshakable. It can be done however. Takes time.

The alternative to the current moral morass is to listen the Man that is more alive than any man that has ever lived. Read all about Him, ask around, you’ll find Him everywhere. It’s pretty good. Jack Gator

1. Francis A. Schaeffer ‘How should we then live?’