manrymission.com

There are times in life when you are unable to pay someone back. People show kindness towards you and you are never able to repay them. During Christmas time, I often think of Russ Hawkinson.  He was not our Grandfather by blood, but our Grandfather by action. He always helped my family when I was growing up and money was tight.

My mom would receive a Christmas card and tucked inside was some money to buy gifts for five kids or to pay for a ham. It was given out of love and there was no pay back expected. He had the means to give and he gave. Kindness…often we think it so rare.

A few months ago, I got a flat tire. I am embarrassed to admit that I have never changed a flat tire. I found the manual, opened up the back of the van, and discovered I could not even turn the jack loose from it’s holder. I called my husband who was just leaving work and would not be home for an hour or more. He let me know he couldn’t help me. His only advice was, “Look helpless.”

A car pulled into the parking lot to drop off a well dressed man in a very nice suit. His car was parked just down from mine. I walked over and asked him if he could just help me figure out how to get the jack out of it’s holder and then I would attempt the next step. He looked at me, the manual, the van and told his buddy who had dropped him off, “You go ahead, I’m going to help her.”

He changed the flat tire and I stood there and watched his very expensive shirt get ruined. When he was finished, I told him the story of my husband’s bit of advice to “Look helpless.” He told me, “Tell him it worked.” Dale, of course, thinks this vindication of his great advice. For some reason, I don’t view it the same way.

I asked the man who helped me if there was anything I could do to help him or anything I could give him for his trouble. He said “No. Pay it forward.” I had seen that movie years ago and understand the power of that action from a Christian viewpoint. We are called to help others as if Christ himself were in need of help. It is all a part of the principle of “Love thy Neighbor.”

Last month, the endless needs of my “neighbors” sought to overwhelm me. I was asked again to bless someone I did not know and I struggled with the selfish thought of “I cannot do one more thing, God. I am overwhelmed.” I did it out of obedience, but not initially with a giving heart. Later, when I came face to face with the need, I was ashamed at my selfishness.

Immediately after I agreed to meet that need, God blessed us in a totally unexpected way. “I can’t out give you, God.” I thought. “I think I have given so much, and compared to what You have given me, it is so very little.”

A week ago, the endless needs of my “neighbors” sought again to overwhelm me. I was asked again to bless someone I did not know.  Again I thought, “I will do this, but I cannot do one more thing, God. I am overwhelmed.”

The next day, I read a teaching which revealed to me my wrong focus. Truly, I cannot meet the overwhelming needs of everyone that surrounds me, but I can meet the need of the one that God directs me to. I must ask God every time, “Do You want me to meet this need God? If so, help me to do it.”

This morning, I dropped Josiah off at the bus and while returning home I found myself a few cars behind someone driving with a flat tire. The person directly behind him passed on the right, the Marine in front of me hurried off to work, the policeman driving by in the other direction did not stop.

Finally, the car pulled off into a parking lot and I followed. An elderly man got out of the car and I walked over to see how I could help. I did not know him. He simply asked me for a ride home. He lives approximately 5 blocks from me.

After I dropped him off, I thanked God for that flat tire months ago, for without having experienced that sinking feeling I experienced with a flat tire, I may not have pulled over to help. I told the man about my flat tire and how I was told to pay it forward. He told me he always stops to help people and his wife tells him he is crazy to do it.

I know I must be wise when I offer to help someone, but I knew God was asking me, once again, one more thing.

“Remember your free cheese…Provide food for people who are hungry.”

“Remember your Christmas gift…Provide gifts for a child with nothing.”

“Remember your flat tire…Provide a ride for an elderly man.”

Love your neighbor – Show Kindness – Pay it forward. It is what we are called to do.

Today the Army is conducting a memorial service at Fort Hood for those killed last week. Since hearing of the murders, I am still distressed and upset that in a country where people can freely choose love and goodwill, once again someone has chosen hate and evil.

I am ever thankful for the brave security personnel who shot and stopped the shooter. Yet, stand in amazement at the medics who worked to save his life.  I actually told Dale, “Good thing I’m not a medic. I don’t know if I could do that.” I then asked, “What is the point of saving his life? I know the FBI will want to question him to see if it is an organized plot, but is he worth it?”

I find it remarkable that the medics were willing to save the life of their enemy immediately after he gunned down their fellow soldiers. Whether their motivation was duty to save a life that could be saved or the God given ability to love the enemy, I do not know. Either way, to me it shows great character.

Character that I seem to lack during a tragedy and immediately after. For, I do not want to show mercy, kindness, forgiveness, and love. I want the hateful individual to be shown justice, my determination of justice.

I was still struggling with these thoughts as I was sitting and listening to a missionary from South Africa, Charl van Wyk, speak in my Sunday School class. When the rebels were fighting for South Africa, they attacked his church and fired on his people. He fired back and repelled them.

For awhile he was furious at the rebels and refused to forgive them. Then God began to work on his heart. After Charl forgave them, he started a ministry of reconciliation to the very men who fired upon the people of his church. Amazingly, the rebel leader came to Christ and was saved.

Sitting there, I realized once again that I am not the rightful judge. I cannot put myself in God’s place. My righteousness is as filthy rags to God. I don’t know who God will save. I don’t know which heart He will change. Is it possible for God to bring the Fort Hood shooter to salvation? Yes. Will He? I don’t know.

“You have heard that it was said, ‘Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I tell you: Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be sons of your Father in heaven. He causes His sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous.” Matthew 5:43-45 (NIV)

This is a difficult Christian passage for me, because it wars with my flesh. Can I love my enemy? Yes, but only through Christ who lives in my heart. Love is not a feeling, it is an attitude and an action. I must choose to forgive and to pray and to love.

Five years ago, when we headed overseas to live in Hawaii, our pets did not travel with us.  At the time, the quarantine was long.  Our Siberian Husky, Czar was 12 1/2 and Hawaii would have been a torture for him, so he was given to a friend and ridiculously spoiled for the last year of his life.  Our Ragdoll cat, Magnolia also decided she loved the good life lavished on her by a dear friend.  So, for close to 5 years, we have had no pets.  When you must live as a renter, it is very difficult to keep pets.  It severely limits your choice of places to live.  So, we told the kids that when we returned to the States and owned our home, we would once again get pets.  Dale’s deployment delayed the fulfillment of the promise, but now that I’ve started, there’s no stopping.  Dale went with the children to choose fish.  They happily named them which I discovered was probably not a good idea after some fish died and had to be replaced.  I had somehow missed the time worn advice of “Never Name Fish!”  However, fish were not enough.  On Saturday, we will be bringing home a Golden Retriever puppy.  I have spent the last several months reading dog breed, dog training, dog care, and dog cleanup books.  The kids and I watched multiple episodes of the Dog Whisperer and on Saturday, we wandered lost through the aisles of the pet store choosing brushes, dishes, toys, leashes, etc.  Before Dale brought home Czar, our first dog, there was no preparation, no research, and no plan.  Reading all these books and watching all these shows, I have concluded that we did everything wrong with him.  Czar was never completely housebroken, he chewed up everything, and ran away every chance he got.  We loved him dearly, but here’s hoping I can do it right this time.  For the last month, I have felt like I am preparing for a baby.  Instead of nursing/formula, crib, and diaper brand decisions; I must now decide which dog food, kennel, and brushes are the best.  Dog food is very complicated now.  There is endless research on dog food nutritional value and endless personal reviews that alternate between “this food is excellent” and “this is rubbish, it made my dog sick”.  For now, I am going to feed him the food the breeder uses as well as a dog vitamin.  Yes, a dog vitamin.  In the midst of debating how much I’m willing to pay to ensure my dog has the proper nutrition, I’m feeding my children waffles with peanut butter, chocolate chips, and syrup for dinner.  And no, I didn’t give them a vitamin.

On Saturday, Josiah participated in the ACSI National Spelling Bee.  There was a reception the night prior for the students to meet and get to know each other.  They were each given a list of statements (I live east of the Mississippi.  I am the oldest in my family, etc) and they were supposed to find students who matched the criteria.  I know it will surprise many of you to discover that Josiah was not wandering around asking questions of kids he didn’t know.  However, he could not avoid those who came to ask him.  And so, we met Jack, a 6th grader.  He walked up to Josiah and said, “So, where are you on this list, son?”  Josiah offered him a couple options and upon seeing Josiah’s name badge said, “You’re from Fredericksburg, Eh.  You must know all about the battle of Fredericksburg then.”  When Josiah replied that he did not, Jack spent the next several minutes explaining the battle to Josiah.  Jack finished his military history lesson with “The bottom line, south won!”  Then off he went to harangue the next unsuspecting speller.  Later in the evening, each speller got up to introduce themselves.  They had to say their name, grade, school, and claim to fame.  Jack said, “I am mostly known for my shy and reserved demeanor.”  Even though the students had only known each other for 30 minutes, plenty of people laughed.  Josiah’s claim to fame was that he had lived in Australia for 2 years.  He even said, “Good Day, Mate!”  Another boy’s claim to fame was that he had memorized the Gettysburg address in 1st grade.  Some students were mortified to speak and others relished the spotlight.  I was greatly entertained by all their uniqueness.  On Saturday morning, the spelling bee started and it was very obvious that most of the students had memorized the published words list.  For the practice round, Josiah had to spell eventual.  In the 1st round, he spelled lingcod.  In the 2nd round, he spelled cavil.  In the 3rd round, he spelled geriatrics.  In the 4th round, he spelled toponymy.  In the 5th round, the judge went to the unpublished list and Josiah had to spell, escritoire.  When she said it, I knew he was done.  Unlike some of the other parents in the room, I had not provided my son with a French tutor to prepare him for the Bee.  He gave it a go and almost had it.  He spelled it escritoir.  He left off the last e, and he was out.  If only my Grandfather had not taken the e off of the end of Meloche, Josiah may have thought it best to always throw an e on the end of a French word.  He finished 25th out of 46 spellers.  Of course, including all the students who participated in the Bees leading up to the Nationals, he finished 25th out of 7000.  It sounds more impressive.  I’m fairly sure, Jack will use a similar statistic throughout his life.  Josiah was disappointed, but as the Bee went on and he began to realize the skill level of his competitors, he leaned over to me and said, “I could have never won”.  By the 6th round, there were 12 students left.  One girl asked every question she could before she spelled a word. “May I have a definition?  Is the language of origin French?  Is the root word …?, and on and on and on.”  It took her 5 minutes to spell a word.  The Gettysburg address boy was eliminated and his father protested twice to the arbitrator.  His father had a laptop computer that he showed to the judge to try to prove that something unjust had occurred.   I leaned over and told Josiah that he needed a better arbitrator.  I didn’t even have a dictionary, let alone a computer, and I certainly didn’t have a French tutor.  The boy’s father was denied twice.  The Gettysburg address boy was officially eliminated.  Jack was eliminated as well.  There was one boy who upon receiving a word, would scan his eyes back and forth as if reading pages of the dictionary in his mind.  He was eliminated by an Italian musical term.  By round 13 there were 2 students left.  The girl spelled without asking a question,  The boy only occasionally asked for a definition.  The boy spelled words I had never heard of.  He would spell with double p’s, or l’s or oui’s and I would think, “There’s no way that word is spelled that way.”  Yet, he was always correct.  I thought for sure he was going to win and yet he got thrown off by a dog breed.  He misspelled dachshund.  The girl, who never paused, then spelled susurration and cetacean to win.  When it was all over, I was happy to consider that the seemingly endless spelling hours were over.  We picked up Zeke, and on the way home he started, “M-O-M, mom, D-A-D, dad, N-O, no, Y-E-S, yes.  Apparently, it’s never going to end.

I spent Saturday and Sunday visiting projects in Western Ninewa province along with Mike Miller, MSG Phil Baker and our security team. One of my two security escort teams was recently fielded the REVA armored personnel carrier vehicles. After spending approximately 18 hours on the road in the REVA this weekend, I can testify that the REVA is a tough vehicle, especially on my old bones! When I would comment on how uncomfortable the ride was, MSG Baker would reply “Yeah but the armor is really thick!” He has his priorities set correctly. We linked up with a local US Army Civil Affairs detachment for a little additional firepower during our visits. The first village we visited is in the Sino sub-district of Sinjar, in Western Ninewa Province (approximately 20 miles east of Syria).

In this village and the others we visited on Saturday, we inspected a series of wells from a recently completed project. The inhabitants of this village are Yazidis. Many Muslims view the Yazidis as devil worshipers at the worst or anti-Islamic at the best. Shortly after I arrived in Mosul in August 2007, approximately 800 Yazidis were killed in this region in a series of coordinated suicide bombings. The people in this village were extremely friendly and appeared very pro-American. I felt safer in this village than any other village I have visited in Ninewa Province. At some of the wells we visited, we found families that had taken up residence. One gentleman we encountered reminded me of Willie Nelson. In addition to him and his wife, I counted at least 7 kids living in a tent next to the well pump house.

It’s very humbling to compare this to my life in Northern Virginia.