Skip to main content

Healing Our Land Begins With Me Fighting


I've learned about myself that I'm a fighter.  Maybe it is my Irish-German heritage.  Maybe it is my wild flower growing up.  Maybe it's a bad attitude.  Maybe it is a warrior and pioneer spirit inherited from my family.  Maybe it is a gift.

However, it came...I want to fight when things are wrong.  When people are hurting or treated badly or if injustice is happening.  Cowardliness infuriates me.

I remember a time that I was with my two younger boys in the Safeway parking lot when I heard a woman's distress.  I saw a man in a camper through the window punching a woman over and over again and was overcome with a fierce desire.  Handing the phone to my boys and sending them in to call 911, I  marched to the camper fully prepared to beat the....out of the man.   

My storming gave the woman a chance to get out of the camper with a tiny baby she was holding so I ushered her to the store.  Boy was he lucky the police got to him before I did.  

Then I shook.  Standing in the parking lot watching the man handcuffed and taken into police custody, I loudly proclaimed to my boys in front of the bystanders.  "Boys, if you ever stand in a parking lot like these people, while a woman is getting beat and they do nothing like the men in the parking lot then I will have your heads."

I can't tell you of all of the times that my boys called from the bathroom at school or ran in the door to tell about a domestic or bullying situation testing my resolve to act.

I intentionally taught and gave my boys opportunity to take challenges and "calculated risks."  

We cannot respond to danger with fear or with hiding out.   

So when the bombs went off in Boston, I wanted to fight.  I'm angry.  I'm hurting and broken and furious.  

While watching coverage I was proud of Americans who ran to the chaos and pulled away the fencing and metal barriers to reach the wounded.  

A defiant spirit raised its head within me and pride swelled.  This is America.  This can't happen here.

Then my mind turned to a book I'm reading about when God lifts His hand of protection off a land.  

I thought of the prayer that I pray for my boys to stay under the umbrella of His protection so they will be protected.  

I remembered Isaiah speaking of choosing blessings or cursing.

Have we as a nation so walked away from God that He has taken His protective hedge off of us?  

Humbleness swept over me. 

Humbleness is not to be confused with passivity in my opinion.  King David was a man after God's own heart and was a warrior.

Humbleness in knowing the reality of His Sovereignty.  

That our turning to Him will heal our land and our continued defiance will continue to harm us.

Healing our land and humbling our hearts is up to each of us.  It is not an excuse for us to sit on our butts and use God as an excuse to be lazy and stop fighting.  

It is all about who we rely on, turn to and trust in.  

Trusting IN the Fight.

 


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Starting a Journey

September 3, 2010 Originally posted How to Begin a Journey 1. Pick a destination or simply start. 2. Plan a detailed itinerary or just take the first step. 3. Pack everything or travel lightly. I am choosing to just begin. To leave behind the baggage, pick up a day pack, and go. Several nights before we moved to Ogallala, I was praying about the transition when I heard that still, small voice of God. In that moment, I knew He heard my Heart's Cry. He hears every whispered plea, every unspoken longing. If I truly sit with that truth, it humbles me. What courage, boldness, passion, and decisiveness I have when I remember: He never leaves or forsakes me. He provides for my every need according to His riches in glory. My hope is to encourage you He hears your Heart's Cry too.

1940 Canned Apple Butter: Family Root Cellar

I loved exploration as a child.  From opening the door and going down the stairs to get something from my Grandma's root cellar or exploring old homesteads while checking cows.  I credit my Mom with teaching us to appreciate those things that represented the people who had gone before us. When I moved with my husband and boys to a house on the family ranch-I began exploring immediately.  This was the house my Aunt and Uncle lived in during my childhood.  My Grandparents had lived there and many other families dating back to 1900 when it was built.   With two little boys in tow, I made my way to the root cellar and found a treasure cove.  Old text books belonging to the original family who had been a teacher, the original medicine cupboard, tools, trash and memorabilia.   I felt like an archeologist sifting through layers of debris representing generations and culture.  And I was.  I hauled truckloads of trash to the dump (some...

Diabetes-Opened to Disease OR Open to Connecting to my Strengths

I've tried living in denial for two years after the big D diagnoses was handed over.  Honestly, I just don't want to talk about it.  Outwardly seemly calm and disconnected from it.  Inwardly terrified. As a plant that is stressed is open to disease, injury and death so to our bodies are.  I opened myself up to this.  Stress, lack of sleep, bad nutrition, overweight and lack of exercise.  For some reason I believed that if I ran fast enough and worked hard enough, I would outrun my family genes.  The tiny room in the back of my brain locked with a key has kept the fear of this disease at bay even though I could hear its screaming when life quieted down. My Aunt died piece by piece to this disease.  First a heart attack and quadruple by-pass.  Then a toe.  Next a foot.  Legs came next along with more heart attacks.  Kidneys shutting down.  She died very young. When I was little, my Aunt Ally gave herself s...