Sunday, December 1, 2019

Little Known Bible Stories #2

How Hospitality Helped Save the Farm
   This story is told more often than the last one, but I think it is uncommon enough to add to this series. It is told in II Kings 4 and 8. 
   During the days when the great prophet Elisha was roaming Israel there lived a wise and generous woman in a place called Shunem. We don't even know her name. We do know that she was well off and had a lot of respect in her community. 
  I'm sure most of us have someone in our lives who have her personality. You know the kind who will chastise you if you happen to drive through her town and you don't stop by for a bite to eat? "It was 2 AM!" you try to explain. But, that is no excuse. You really should have stopped. She would have fixed you a full meal too! 
  And, so it was with this dear woman. When Elisha came to Shunem she greeted him and invited him over for a bite to eat. 
   After he left she got talking to her husband. Now her husband was quite a bit older than her, but he sure loved that little lady and respected what she had to say. 

"I've been thinking about Elisha." she may have said.
"Who?"
"Oh, you know, the man who ate lunch here the other day."
"Oh, yeah. He had a servant too, what was his name?"
"Gehazi"
"Oh, yeah. Nice men."
"Yeah. I kind of got the feeling that Elisha is a really great prophet. A man of God!"
"You are probably right, honey. You do have a good perception about things like this."
"You know what we should do?"
"What?"
"Build a little room for him, so when he comes through Shunem he can have a place to rest and meditate."
"Sounds good to me!"
"I'll tell the servants tomorrow, unless you need their help on another project."
"Nope. If you need them, they are all yours! Building a room for the prophet of God is more important than any other work that needs done around here!"

  It didn't take long for the room to be finished. She made sure it was perfect! The Bible makes sure to include how she put a bed and a little table and stool and lamp in his room. She thought of everything he might possibly need to help him be comfortable.

  It wasn't long until Elisha showed back up in Shunem. This dear lady noticed him right away and was quick to invite him in. She had a servant wash his feet and another bring him food and drink. Then, she showed him his room. 
  Elisha didn't know what to say. He lay down on the bed for a siesta and looked up at the ceiling. This was so nice and refreshing. He was used to sleeping along a creek somewhere, or under a tree, when he was traveling. Some towns he went through were not too happy to see him coming. They weren't too keen on his "Hell, Fire and Brimstone" sermons! But, this couple really appreciated him.
  "Hey, Gehazi! Are you asleep?"
  "No, sir. What can I do for you?" the servant was quick to respond.
  "Go get that Shunamite lady!"
  "Yes sir!"
   Soon Gehazi was back with the woman right outside the door.
   "Ask her if there is anything she needs, or how I can repay her for all she has done."
Back then men of God didn't often have many material goods, or money. Elisha suggested maybe he could talk to the King on her behalf about something, or ask another government official to help ease her burden somehow.
  "No thank you, sir." she answered. "We have everything we need. We live on the land that we inherited and have a lot of family around. I really have no complaints. It was my honor to build you this little room. Blessings to you."
  Off she went to check on something, but Elisha continued to stare at Gehazi. The servant stood in the doorway waiting to see what his master would say.
  There has to be something I can do for her. 
  Gehazi waited politely until his master invited him to share his thoughts.
  "Well, she doesn't have any kids, sir. Her husband is really old, so maybe they can't have kids."
  "Hmmm. Go get her!"
   It wasn't long and they were back again.
  "Tell her she's going to be snuggling a little baby this time next year." Elisha
 told Gehazi.
  The dear lady stood in the doorway. "No, sir! Please. Don't lie to me!" she  cried, as if he touched something that was dear to her heart. Had she longed for a baby, but given up hope? Had she had babies die in her womb? Had she buried a child? Had she been disappointed month after month until she came to accept her lot in life? Perhaps all of the above. 
   True to the prophet's words she soon found out she was with child, and, when the season foretold came around she was holding her very own baby son! 
   The years went on and this little family remained as hospitable as ever. Perhaps the little guy became like a grandson to prophet Elisha. I can imagine him running into the house excitedly announcing: "Mom! The prophet is here! He is in town today!" 
  Often, if there was a special Sabbath meeting, or Holy Day, the little family would visit the prophet's house. So many happy memories! 
  One hot summer morning, when the little boy was practically grown, he ran out to the field to hang out with his Dad. He played and worked in the hot sun for several hours. Suddenly he stopped and put his head between his hands.
"Father! My head! My head!" he cried as he collapsed to the ground.
The concerned father ordered a servant to carry him to his mother.
Mom will know what to do. She always knew what to do! The old man was confident that she would know just how to make their little son feel better!
   I don't know what all she did, but, I'm sure she tried everything she could think of. She was holding him, inside their cool house, when he suddenly stopped. He stopped looking at her. He stopped moaning. He seemed to have even stopped breathing. She wasn't even sure if she could feel a heartbeat anymore. 

  She didn't say a word.
 She didn't cry. 
She didn't scream. 
She wasn't that kind of woman. 

  She picked up her dead little boy and carried him up to the prophet's room. She laid him on the holy man of God's bed. Then, she shut the door.

   It wasn't long when she appeared in the field. Her husband stopped and wiped his brow.
   "How's the boy?" he asked, concerned.
   "He's going to be fine." she answered with calm determination. "Can I have one of the servants take me to the prophet's?"
   "Sure. But, why are you going to Elisha's today? It isn't the New Moon, or Sabbath, or anything?"
  "It'll be okay!" she assured him.
  The old man shrugged. He didn't even try to understand womenfolk anymore He told one of the young men to saddle an ass for the lady and escort her to Elisha's and went back to his work, confident his wife must have a good reason to go and that all would be well.

"Ride as fast as you can." she instructed the servant as he saddled her ass for her. "Don't slow down for me unless I ask you to."

It took an hour, or two, to get to Mount Carmel, where the prophet lived. 
Elisha looked down the road and recognized the woman right away.

"Gehazi! Why is that dear lady here?" Elisha asked his servant.
"I'm not sure master, I will ask."
Gehazi ran to meet her. 
"Is everything okay?" Gehazi asked her.
"Fine!" she answered as she got off her ride.
"How's your husband?" Gehazi tried again.
"Fine!" she responded as she began walking briskly towards the door.
"How's that little guy of yours?" he asked.
"Fine!" she said as only a woman can when everything is definitely NOT fine!!

The lady ran into the room where Elisha stood and collapsed at his feet.
Gehazi stepped forward to escort her away from his master. This wasn't the protocall. No one just runs up to the prophet! 
"It's okay. Leave her be!" Elisha told him. "Something is wrong and God hasn't told me about it."

Then she broke down.
"Oh sir! Did I ask for a son? Didn't I tell you not to trick me?" she cried.
Elisha knew right away that something tragic had happened to the little fellow. 

"Hurry Gehazi!" he ordered, "Take my staff and lay it across the child!"
 Gehazi obeyed at once. He too was, no doubt, fond of the boy. 

Elisha and the distraught Mother were not far behind. 

Gehazi got there first and ran into the familiar little room. There was the child's body, looking so still and quiet and small. He laid the staff on him, hoping for a miracle. So many miracles had been performed with that staff!
 There was no response.
Was he dead, or only in a coma?
He called him, but there was no answer.

Elisha soon entered the room.
"He won't wake up." Gehazi reported.

The boy's mother stayed downstairs. Did she pray? Did she busy herself preparing dinner confident that all would be well? Or, did she sit in a chair and stare into space, in shock of what had happened, too numb to know how to react? I could imagine any of those responses from her, but what is important is what was happening in the little room upstairs.

The prophet sent even his right-hand man Gehazi out of the room. It was just him and the boy. Oh how he longed to hear his cheerful little voice again. He cried out in prayer to his God. He rubbed his little body, hoping to bring warmth back into him. He blew into his mouth trying to get him to take just one breath. He didn't stop. He didn't give up. He prayed and continued to work on the little body. Was it feeling warmer? Did he hear a heartbeat that time? Was that the boy's breath, or just his own that he had breathed into him coming back out? Once more he cried out to God. -not for himself, but for the dear little mother who was downstairs. The one who never asked for anything for herself. The one who had just lost the only thing she had ever wanted, but never even hoped for. 
 Elisha went downstairs and paced back and forth. No one spoke. It had never been so quiet in that house. He couldn't bear to look at the Shunammite woman. Gehazi looked at him with a silent question, but Elisha didn't answer him. He wouldn't answer. Not yet.
Back upstairs he went. He worked some more on the little body. Suddenly the boy sneezed! Seven sneezes! They were too quiet to be heard out of that room, but, to Elisha, it was the most wonderful sound he had ever heard! And then, those dear little eyes fluttered open! 
Elisha went to the door. His faithful servant was right there. 
"Gehazi! Go get the Shunamite woman! Tell her to come here!"
Up the stairs she came. Was this it? Was it time to accept the fact that her son was dead? How could her heart continue to beat if his wasn't? But, she went. "All will be well!" she told herself. She took a deep breath and tapped on the door.
"I'm here, sir."
"Go pick your son up!" he softly commanded.
Then she saw him. Still. Quiet. But, very much alive. He looked at her and smiled a weak smile and ...he breathed! He breathed a big breath of oxygen in that little upper room. 
For the second time that day she fell at the prophet's feet. This time she was speechless. He understood.
She stumbled to the Holy man's bed and gently picked up her precious little boy. She held him close. She couldn't see anyone else. She couldn't see the prophet standing in the room. She didn't acknowledge his servant holding the door open for her. She didn't see her husband coming into the house from the field confused about why the prophet's ass was by the gate. All she saw was her son's beautiful brown eyes. All she could hear was his breathing. 1-2-3... each breath a little stronger, a little deeper. And, that little heart beat! So steady, so strong. She sat in her chair and held him close. She sat while the prophet and his servant went outside with her husband and told him all that had happened. She didn't even offer her guests food! 
It was okay. Elisha couldn't eat right then anyway. 
"Let's go!" he told Gehazi and they left for home.
The father went inside and looked at that amazing and beautiful woman in the chair holding their son and tears formed in his eyes. They ran down his cheeks and down his beard. 
"Do you know how much I love you?" he asked as he walked towards the chair.
"He is so loved," she whispered, presuming he was referring to the little child who was their world.
"Yes, he is loved. Oh so loved. But I was talking about you, my love." 
She felt strong arms pick them both up and he just held them. 
She cried. For the first time that day, she cried. Her body shook and he just held her. He cried too. They were happy tears. The little boy smiled at his parents. 
"It's okay." he said, "Everything will be fine!"
His mother smiled and looked at her husband. He smiled too!
"Yes! Didn't I tell you?" she reminded him, and herself. "Everything is just fine!"
He shook his head and, for the first time he thought, maybe, he was finally starting to understand women, or, at least this one!

A few chapters later Elisha visited this woman again and told her that there was going to be a famine. So, she packed up her family and they moved to the coast for a few years.
  Seven years later, the family moved back home. But, guess what? Someone else was living in their house! She took her son's hand and went directly to the King.
 It just so happened that someone else was visiting with the king that day. A man named Gehazi. The king had asked him to come and tell him all the Great things God had done through Elisha. He had just finished telling about a time when Elisha raise a boy to life when who should walk in but the Shunamite lady!
 The king looked up to see who was interrupting his story hour and didn't recognize her. Gehazi did though.
"Oh, King! This is the lady and her son whom Elisha raised to life!" Gehazi announced excitedly.
The King was impressed and honored to meet them.
 She immediately had an audience with the King. He didn't need to be asked twice. He assigned an officer from his court to make sure she had everything she needed and complete restitution of all that was hers. Not only did she get her home back, but a full pantry too! Her family's needs were met.
How might her story have changed if it wasn't for her kindness and hospitality?








Tuesday, October 1, 2019

Little known Bible Stories #1: Great Aunt Sherah

   Ephraim was very sad. He had heard some awful news. Two men in his family had been killed in a cattle-rustling incident. Yep! Really! Cattle -rustling. In the Bible! Remember how Israel (Jacob) had purposefully placed his right hand on young Ephraim's head and blessed him? Well, at this point in his life, it sounds like Ephraim felt like a failure. His relatives all gathered around him to comfort him, but he was very upset.
 
   Not long after this a baby boy was born into the family. Ephraim called him, Beriah which basically means that his family is a big mess! Evil, shameful things had happened. Where was the blessing? Then, God gave them a little girl. Perhaps Ephraim died believing that he had failed. But, he didn't realize the lasting impact this little girl would have on the whole nation of Israel.

   Maybe when she was a small child she had a different name, but she became known as, Sherah, which means 'our female relative.' Evidently everyone was proud to be related to her. The Bible doesn't say she ever got married, or had kids, but, she built something that lasted hundreds, even thousands of years. Three cities! The foundations of the cities still exist today. Bethhoron the nether, and the upper and Uzzensherah (which means: listen to Sherah).

  The only place she is mentioned is in one little verse in I Chronicles 7:24. It says that she built three cities, but here is a mystery. You see, her people lived in Egypt during her lifetime, but the three cities she built are in the land of Canaan. The future home of her people.

  Did she build these cities in faith that her descendants, or descendants of her nieces and nephews would move there one day? I'm not sure, but, what I do know, is that a descendant of her brother visited these cities many years later. Perhaps you have heard of this little nephew of hers. We know him by the name of Joshua.

  It was this young man who came back to the other Israelites, after visiting the land of promise, and spoke with confidence in His God. "It is a land flowing with milk and honey!" he joyfully reported. But, Joshua, and his buddy Caleb, soon tore their clothes as they heard the crying of the other spies. Everyone else wanted to give up and go home. It was too hard. Too many giants. Too many obstacles. "I wanna go back to Egypt" they cried.  But, I'm guessing Egypt wasn't home to Joshua. I can just imagine him thinking, "My aunt built me a city up north of here. We're almost home. Let's go!"

  It was an old man, Joshua, who said the famous words, "As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord!" As he finally led a new generation into the Land of Promise! A generation raised on manna and miracles.

  It was an even older Joshua who finally reached the cities his aunt had built for him and his family. There were many of them now.

  Did I happen to mention exactly where those cities were? Have you ever heard of Gibeon, or the valley of Ajalon? Maybe not, but, what about the story of the sun and moon standing still? Sound familiar? Joshua 10 has the whole story. Go back and read it and see if you can find one of Sherah's cities mentioned. (hint: It is Bethoron.)

  There the elderly Joshua stood, still strong in body and faith, fighting against the enemies that were blocking his was to what was rightfully his: The cities built by Sherah!  They were fighting, winning, but it was getting late.

  "Sun! Stand still! Hold it right there, moon!" he requested. And, somehow, they stopped! It was like all of the natural world held it's breath as Joshua and his army fought and got he victory over their enemies.

  It is said that there was no day like that before, or after, that the LORD listened to the voice of a man. The LORD fought for Israel. The LORD fought for Joshua.

  I wonder if God let Sherah see a glimpse of that day. I wonder if, as she drew the plans and directed her workers...as she searched for the perfect stones to build a firm foundation for her cities...if maybe, just maybe she dreamed of a day the sun and moon would pause as her family finally came home.

  The foundation she laid is still there. Her cities stayed!

  So, Aunties, fear not! We do not know the names of Joshua's mother, or grandmother. But, we do know the name of a great-great auntie!

  One of her cities is named: Uzzen-sherah, which means "listen to Sherah." I'm guessing her relatives did listen to her. I'm guessing her nephew, Joshua, listened and inherited her boldness and faith.

 Dear aunties, may your nieces and nephews never forget the foundations you lay for them, nor the great cities you build for them. Thank you for teaching the children in your lives to: reach high; be bold; have faith; and not be afraid,  -while their parents are busy just surviving.

  We are proud to call you our sister, or aunt, or relative! We need you and we will NEVER FORGET YOU!

Monday, September 23, 2019

Why Haven't I Heard This Before? Story #1


EGYPT

            4,000 years ago… maybe a little more, maybe a little less… there lived a young man who was 17 years old. He came to Egypt as a slave. Some men on camels had come by the camp where this man and his brothers were taking care of a huge flock of sheep and goats. His brothers sold him to the men on camels!! They were tired of hearing him talking and telling stories, so they sold him! What a horrible thing to do to your little brother! The men on the camels didn’t care. All they cared about was money.

            This was a very long time ago and there were not as many people on earth as there are now. People were strong and very smart, but there were not very many of them. They did not have very many big cities. They did not have big machines. They had to do most of their work by using their brains and their muscles.

 This slave was very strong and very smart. The Egyptians would like to have such a man as a slave! Don’t worry. Most of the Egyptians at this time in history were very kind to their slaves. The slaves had to work hard, but they had plenty to eat and time to rest.

The men on the camels sold this guy to a very important man in Egypt. He was a captain in Pharaoh’s army. He needed someone young and smart to help him take care of his big house. He soon found out that this man was just the guy he needed. When the captain was gone his slave took care of everything. He was good at math. He kept track of everything the captain had. He figured out how much money and food and other stuff he had. He figured out ways to make it so the captain had even more and did not waste anything. The captain was very pleased.

However, the captain’s wife was not nice! She did not like it that her husband gave this slave so much responsibility. You see, this slave was a Hebrew. Hebrew people were looked down on in Egypt. Hebrew people lived in tents, not beautiful stone houses like the Egyptians. Hebrew people lived in the wilderness and wandered from place to place. Egyptians lived in beautiful, strong cities next to a cool, life-giving river called the Nile River. But, the worst thing of all is: The Hebrews stunk!!! They smelled like goats and sheep, because they were shepherds! The Egyptians were very clean people. They shaved the hair off their bodies, they took lots of baths in the river. The Hebrews had long beards and lots of hair. The looked and smelled nasty!! Also, the Hebrews ate goat meat and lamb meat. What did the Egyptians eat? They ate beef! They thought beef was better. They thought people who ate goats and sheep were gross and disgusting. They wouldn’t even let them eat at the same table with them!

But, this slave boy didn’t mind. He kind of liked to eat by himself. He shaved his beard. He washed his hands and face. He dressed like an Egyptian. He probably even ate beef sometimes.

The Captain’s wife was impressed. Eventually she got a crush on this slave. He looked pretty cute all cleaned up! Sometimes, when her husband was gone, she would to try to get the slave to pay attention to her, or hold her hand, or tell her she was pretty, or maybe even… KISS her!!!! This was very wrong! The Egyptians and the Hebrews both believed that it was wrong!

The slave ignored her and kept diligently doing his job. He did exactly what his master told him to do.

“Why won’t you even look at me?” the lady asked. “Come and sit next to me!” she demanded.

“I can’t.” the slave answered. “My master has given me directions on taking care of everything in this house. There is only one place I am not allowed. That is your room. There is only one person I am not in charge of. That is you. He trusts me very much. I do not want to make him mad. Please go away!”

The Captain’s wife was very angry! She got madder and madder. By the time her husband came home she had thought of a way to get rid of this slave. She told her husband a lie. She said the slave, that disgusting Hebrew slave, had tried to hurt her.
The Captain was very angry!

“Why would you hurt my wife? I told you that she was the only thing you were not allowed to touch. I gave you freedom to do anything else, but the one thing I said no to, you did!”

He did not give the slave a chance to answer. He sent him to prison!
Would the slave live in prison the rest of his life? He wasn’t sure, but he decided that maybe that is where God wanted him to be. He knew he had done nothing wrong. He worshiped one God. The Creator. The Egyptians had many gods and idols. They even worshiped the Pharaoh. The Pharaoh was their ruler. If Pharaoh said something everyone did it! But, the slave didn’t tell the Egyptians they were wrong. He just kept praying to his God. He kept obeying the rules his family followed.

The man in charge of the prisoners was very impressed with this young man. He soon found out he could trust him to do whatever he asked him to do. Soon this slave was pretty much in charge of whatever happened in the prison. Do you think the prison was a nasty place to be? It was not a fun place. But, the Egyptians did not torture their prisoners. If what they did was really bad, the Pharaoh would have them killed. They would get beaten as a punishment sometimes too. If they were really bad criminals that did not deserve to be killed, they might put them in a hole in the ground by themselves for a while. But, the prison this slave went to was just a building with lots of rooms. They weren’t allowed to leave, but, they were fed and taken care of.

One day the man in charge of the prisoners called the Hebrew slave to him. The slave’s beard had grown. His hair had grown. His clothes were ragged. But, the man still liked him.

“It is Pharaoh’s birthday in a few days.” The man said. “Pharaoh was planning a party for himself and something happened. I’m not sure if he got a belly ache, or what, but he got very angry. He thought one of his servants tried to poison him. The Chief Baker and the Chief Butler are both here as new prisoners. Your job is to take care of them while they are here.”

 The Chief Baker was supposed to make sure Pharaoh’s food was not poisoned. The Chief Butler was supposed to make sure whatever he drank was not poisoned. One of them had not done their job! The Pharaoh sent them both to prison while he could think of what to do.

Some times and places in history, the King, or Emperor, would have just killed them both! But, the ancient Egyptians tried to be fair.
While they were there the baker and butler both had dreams. The Hebrew slave told them what the dreams meant and they both came true! The Baker was in trouble! The Butler was cleared. The Baker was killed. The Butler could leave the prison to go back to the palace to work for the Pharaoh.

“Please.” The slave said. “Don’t forget about me. Tell the Pharaoh I am stuck here in prison and I didn’t do anything wrong. Ask him to set me free.”
“I will tell him.” The Butler promised. He knew the Hebrew slave was good and kind.

So, the Butler left. Do you think he told Pharaoh? Do you think Pharaoh felt sorry for the Hebrew slave and let him come out of prison? Yes and no. The Butler forgot all about that slave who had helped him so much during those dark days in prison. He got back to the palace and worked harder than ever. He was very careful about everything he did. He spent every day right next to the Pharaoh. They talked about many things, but they never once talked about the Hebrew slave.

Years went by and the Hebrew slave got older, and hairier and stinkier. He kept praying to God. He kept doing what was right. He kept being kind, even to people who were not kind to him.

One day someone came running to the prison with a very important message directly from the Pharaoh. It was a message about the Hebrew slave! He was to shave his hair and take a bath. He was to put on clean clothes. He must hurry very quickly!

The Butler had finally remembered. The Pharaoh had had a dream. Some people say the Pharaoh’s name was Djoser. We will say that was his name.  Pharaoh Djoser needed the Hebrew slave to tell him what his dream meant.

Joseph (the Hebrew slave) hurried and got ready. He didn’t look, or smell, or sound like a Hebrew. He had learned many things during his years in prison. He could probably speak different languages from being around the prisoners. He could read and write. He was still very smart and very good.

“I cannot tell you what your dream means.” He told Pharaoh. “But, my God can!”

      Pharaoh listened. He liked this man. He was not young anymore. Maybe he was even older than the Pharaoh. Pharaoh looked up to him for advice. He called him his father. He called him many names. Egyptians often had more than one name. Their names told different things about them. One name the Pharaoh gave him was Zaphnath-paaneah which might mean that he could reveal secrets or save life. Another name might have been Imhotep which means the voice of God. In English we call his name: Joseph which means: He shall add.
             
            He helped Egypt prepare for a famine that was coming. He built a city for storing the grain. He might have even built the first pyramid that the other pyramids were patterned after.

    When the famine came, Joseph’s family heard that there was grain in Egypt. They went down there to buy food. They didn’t know that the man in charge of selling the grain was their little brother.

Joseph was kind, even to them. Soon the whole family moved to Egypt. The Pharaoh let them come and even bring their stinky goats and sheep. They couldn’t live too close to the palace though, of course. So, Joseph asked for them to be allowed to live in an area called Goshen.

  Joseph’s family was very happy. They were sorry they had been so mean. Their children grew up looking up to Joseph. The Egyptians also looked up to the man they called Imhotep. He taught them to use medicine to help people, not hurt them. He lived to be 110 years old! The Egyptians made his body into a mummy. Some people think they made have found his grave near the first pyramid that was built in Egypt. The pyramid he might have built! But, some people say that wasn’t it. Either way something is missing. Do you know what is missing? His body. They cannot find the mummy of Imhotep. No one has found the mummy of this famous and well-loved Imhotep.
Why not? Do you know?

Well, IF Imhotep was Joseph, then it is because his body is farther north! Joseph asked his grandchildren and nieces and nephews to take his body with them when they left Egypt. He wanted to be buried in his home country. So, 400 years later they took his body with them and buried him in Shechem. This is in the land of Canaan.

This all happened a very long time ago. The only facts we can be sure of are what we read in the Bible. But, it would make sense if Imhotep was Joseph and the pictures on the following links, are from the place he built to store grain 4,000 years ago.
  

Saqqara Pharaoh Djoser pyramid and complex
Pharoah Djoser 16th paharoah of 3rd dynasty


Sunday, April 28, 2019

In the bend of the road

It is 2:00 AM. It has been a long time since I got out of bed in the night to write. It has been even longer since I stayed up to finish a good book! I knew I would write today. -tonight. I have so much on my mind, my heart. I don't know what it is.... during the day I can't seem to focus. I didn't remember my blog site, or name, but this computer remembered it for me, and here I am. I really need some quiet time. Long stretches of thinking and meditating and pondering. "The Apothecary's Daughter" by Julie Klassen calmed my mind and helped me gather my thoughts.

There seems to be something about reading a fictitious story and living many years in just a few hours time, that helps me make sense of what is going on in my world too! I don't understand it yet, but reading and writing are my way to process things, so hopefully it will make sense in a page or two (hopefully it won't take 200 pages!!).

Real life! It is harder to guess, to understand. Who are the good guys and who are the bad guys? No, that isn't my question. My question is: Why must there always be good guys and bad guys? Why can't everyone be good? I really want to believe that everyone wants to be good. I want to believe that even the bad guys would become good if just given a chance.
 If they were loved.
If it was explained to them in just the right way.
If someone showed them how good being good feels.

Do they really want to be evil? Do people, in this story that I am in, really want to destroy innocent people?

I want to rewrite the story... or maybe finish it from where it is...
No, not the one I just read. The true story. The one about my neighbors. People from my town. A night exactly two weeks ago that shook us. A night when a stranger was on the loose in our woods. An invader who came in and shot a young, brilliant, loved, local policeman. A night when my neighbors locked their doors and loaded their guns. But, I slept. I was sad, but not really too scared. And the next morning when we learned the name of the stranger. One of our own. Not someone from the city. But, an evil one in our midst. Even as I write this it feels wrong. I cannot say that someone is evil! I do not know them. I am not their judge. I do not know their hearts... or do I? But, a voice of accusation whisper in my head: "Your town raises cop killers!"
"No!" I shake my head. We are kind people. We like our solitude. Maybe we don't always follow all the rules exactly (I mean, the speed limit used to be 40, instead of 35), but we respect the law and our public servants. We take care of our own and call authorities as a last resort, but we respect authority figures.
I look at my son playing with toy soldiers after coming home from visiting the memorial along the side of the road where 'it happened.' What can I say?  How can I raise him to be good and law-abiding and respectful?
It is easy to grieve for the policeman's family. They have so much support. But, what about the bad guys' family? They are not allowed to grieve his passing. He deserved to die. I was relieved to read he was no longer a threat. - that we wouldn't have to endure hearing about endless court case like we did with his brother. But, part of me is very sad too. A weary feeling that I don't understand.
Someone said something that reminded me of a verse:

Romans 5:7 King James Version (KJV)

For scarcely for a righteous man will one die: yet peradventure for a good man some would even dare to die.
But God commendeth his love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.

It is not shocking at all that our community reached out to the fallen officer's family and other officers. The support for our public servants is overwhelming. But, if we really want to be Christlike, we should show love to the murderer's family too. But, how can we? They hate us! The are evil! We cannot trust them!
They too have children who lost their father that night. Some to prison, some to death. One child also lost a Grandmother the same day.
I know where some of them live! Chance are pretty good I may pass them in the store, or at a park. I might not know it is them.
I don't want them to be my enemy. 
I can hear a small child's voice, in my imaginary story, playing with his toys. "Bang, bang! I shoot you dead! Hahaha!"  I saw a kid play like that at a day care center where I once worked. Very disturbing! "No!" I shout at the page. Delete that!  This is how it goes: The child grows up loved and befriended and encouraged. The community raises funds to send him to college to follow his dreams. He grows up to follow his passion. Not of killing, but something helpful. Productive to society. Someone we can be proud of. 
In my story someone starts some kind of program to help families of criminals  to change. To become GOOD people! 
But, somehow it doesn't even work on paper. Even made-up stories have bad guys. If the bad guy starts to turn around and be good, do you know what I do as a reader? I ask, "Well, if that guy isn't the bad guy, who is?!" 
I guess I know, deep inside. There is evil and there is good. There are vessels of honor and vessels of dishonor.
We recently watched a video called: "The End of the Spear" Sometimes violent, blood-thirsty men do turn their lives around. If we kill them they lose their chance to choose good. Missionaries willingly died, so that cannibals could receive the Good News!
It's not fair!!!!!
It's not fair that a sweet baby girl lost her strong, smart, loving Daddy because some fool wanted to kill a cop!
It's not fair that a couple families in our town have huge messes to clean up because the SWAT team thought they might find some evidence in their house. It's not fair that people had their privacy invaded because of something a friend, or neighbor did.
It's not fair that a family is in debt because they bailed their son out of jail for helping a friend. 
It's not fair that a family can't have a public memorial for their loved one because no one wants to host a memorial for a cop killer.
But.
 It isn't right for people to kill other people, especially for no reason. 
It isn't right for people to plot against authority figures, our government, or our public servants.
This story isn't finished. 
I can't stay up late to see the ending.
All I can do is wait for the next page to be revealed and hope that it gets better. The middle of the story is the worst!!