Of The World’s Children

A Sunday morning somewhere in the world saw the woman being signaled by another. “Please pray for these children. Lay your hands on them and pray.”

The woman looked and took in an image of three huddled children; two girls and one boy. Their ages appeared to range from six to 12 years old.

“Who are they? What is their story?”

The woman was told . . .told the ugly story that resonates with countless other children who are accursed, disrespected, and tossed headlong into the societal rubbish that is strewn about our globe. Deeply troubled, the children have no set point, no guiding star, no clear direction for their raw baby lives. Physical, mental, and sexual abuse have been their instructors. Confusion, loss, and black abandonment are daily companions.

The woman grieved as she learned the little boy has never known his father. Never. The mother of the children are dead. The man who fathered his daughter, then had erotic activities with that child now fights for custody.

With stretched forth arms, the woman circled the three. “Come here,” she said to them. “I want to pray for you. Jesus loves you. I want you to always remember that. No matter what happens, do not forget that Jesus loves you. He’s on your side.” She prayed aloud as was her custom, the children standing still and huddling close to her. “Jesus, be the guardian of these dear children. Protect them. Keep them from harm . . . ” After the prayer, the conversation was of distances, and churches, and hope.

The woman did not sleep well that night.

Infanticide

Today, February 25, 2019 in congressional chambers of the United States of America, a majority of senators voted down the Born-Alive Abortion Survivors Protection Act which would have required that “any health care practitioner present” at the time of a birth exercise the same degree of professional skill, care and diligence to preserve the life and health of the child as a reasonably diligent and conscientious health care practitioner would render to any other child born alive at the same gestational age.”

In essence, as I understand this, our country has now officially embraced infanticide. I’m stunned at what is happening to our country.

Frequently through my life-time, with my family and friends, I’ve discussed the grandeur and exceptionalism of America and how blessed we are to live here. Inevitably such conversation leads to the humble conclusion that the reason for this distinction is: 1. Our country was founded on Judeo/Christian values, and 2. Because we honor Israel. (We pray for that country as the Bible instructs us to do.)

Now, I tremble to consider that our country is slaughtering babies by the multiplied tens of thousands. How, tell me how, can God’s hand continue to be on us?

God help us. God cause us to turn. Forgive our iniquities. Cause our country once again to walk in the way He orders.

The steps of a good man are ordered by the LORD: and he delighteth in his way. Psalm 37:23 _______

What Will We Do With This Moment?

Photo courtesy of AP/Andrew Harnick

“Together, we represent the most extraordinary nation in all of history. What will we do with this moment? How will we be remembered?”

President Donald Trump

Jerry and I had watched the clock and before 6:00 arrived had tuned into Fox News on our computers, as we were eager to hear the State of the Union address by President Trump. Although the purpose of this piece is not to critique the speech, it seems appropriate to note his thoughtful, patriotic, uplifting words to be of the highest caliber.

It was his words, “What will we do with this moment? How will we be remembered?” that resonated with me, and it is of that I speak.

I recalled a day at the beach as I watched a man with his children. What of their moment? Where will they go? What will they do?

She was afraid, I recall, for while you cannot discern it here, there was a chasm, a drop-off, a scary place. Seeing her fearful crouch, he took the hand of his young daughter, and led her across. He taught her in that moment he would protect her, that she could trust men, that her daddy loved her and her mommy loved her, that she could conquer fear; indeed that sometimes it was okay to be afraid.

Others. Rather. Memory loam foul for the dig, deep the findings of scream and stagger. The hate. Hide and cut. Reach. A hand? ……..Any? Is there none? A slap, that’s a hand

Didn’t you know that?

And you new in my heart. A moment. To take. Of peace, Divinity, sobs, shame. Reach. A hand? ……Any? There is one and another ……and that is love. And forgiveness. And care.

Didn’t you know that?

And the good man I watched . . .as he watched . . .as he yet watches. And now is her birthday. She’s twelve. She’s safe.

New blog post on God Things. Link below.

https://shirleybuxton.wordpress.com/2019/02/07/then-grace/

Nah.

“Like your shirt,” Andrew said to the gentleman who had entered the restaurant after we had been seated. It was Sunday after a great morning worship service. We were down in San Diego with Andrew and his clan.

We all liked it; at least the adults did, and for the youngsters who didn’t know the story it was a perfect teaching moment.

“We have the advantage of history, know how the story ended, but Rosa did not that day.” I added to the conversation as the gentleman sat down near us.

A friendly gentleman,after we had discussed the Rosa Parks story for a bit, our conversation turned to church things, and he told us where he had attended that morning, and we related that we had been to a church just across the way. Andrew rose from his seat to point through the window where the church was visible. We invited him to visit, told him he would like it, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he visits The Anchor one day.

After he left us, we continued to discuss the Rosa Parks story, and someone said: “Make a good sermon.”

And so it would . . . or just a simple little piece of writing.

One day Rosa Parks had endured enough, and when that bus driver told her to get up and give her seat to a white person, she refused. Yes, she refused. She was arrested. Still she did not retract her stance.

Nah. Rosa Parks 1955

There comes a time for each of us to speak directly to satan.

Nah, don’t think so. Not today.

He has bound us long enough, lied to us, refused to let us have the freedom that should be ours. He is despicable. Evil. No good thing comes from him. He is a foul, grubbing master who lies, deceives, defrauds and tricks. The very air about him is putrid. His breath is rancid, his intent of hell itself.

We often hear the scripture quoted “Resist the devil and he will flee from you.” The reference is James 4:7 and it actually reads, “Submit yourselves therefore to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you.”

Resist. My research tells me the word resist here is from the Greek word anthistemi, which means to “take a complete stand against”or a “contrary position”and “refusing to be moved.”

I’m determined to take a contrary position to satan, to look him square in the eye when he approaches me and adamantly refuse to follow him. James, though, emphasizes that the only effective way to do this is to submit myself to God. I must learn of Him, understand His ways, and walk carefully and diligently with Him.

Madly, our world careens out of control. The scent of destruction fills our nostrils as the sound of battle plugs our ears. The sight of chaos shadows our eyes as surely as does a blind drawn against a cold midnight. We are in desperate need of God. Help us to have the courage and the spiritual insight to resist satan as he leers our way. Help us to say No.

And to you, the very nice man in San Diego who wore the Rosa Parks shirt, whom I may never see again, thank you. Thank you for the reminder.

Too Close

“Will you roll down your back windows, sir?” The policeman, gun drawn, spoke to Jerry this afternoon as he peered into our car on highway 18 in the San Bernardino mountains. Two policemen went to the back of our car, guns drawn, pulled open the back and peered inside.

We had pulled from our driveway around 1:00, heading down the mountains to an appointment in Fontana, 40 minutes or so away. We had not heard that at 12:30, a woman from Big Bear called the police to say she had just escaped from being tied up by Chris Dorner. Then we heard the shocking news that again this morning he had shot two more policemen. One of them–the father of a young baby–died a few hours ago at Loma Linda University Medical Center. The other policeman spent hours in surgery, but is expected to recover. Now the police had roadblocks at all the highways leading to and from the mountain communities.

The traffic had come to a complete and abrupt halt about 50 minutes before we reached the roadblock that was strewn with policemen, police cars, long guns and pistols. At first, we thought there must have been an accident, then from our car radio we heard the breaking news that made us suspect our traffic stall might be connected with Chris Dorner.

All the mountain roads were closed for hours. I called our daughter, Rebecca, who lives in San Bernardino and made plans to go to her place after our appointment. Fortunately, though, around 4:30 our highway opened and as soon as we could, we roared up the hill. Made it home just after dark.

It is likely that Chris Dorner is now lying dead in a smoldering cabin in Big Bear. The mountains are crawling with policemen, and although they are still following up on other leads, according to the news, they believe he is in a cabin that has been burned to the ground. They have not recovered a body. The fire site is still too hot to be entered.

I’ll be going to bed soon. As I do I am thinking of Chris Dorner, of whom I wrote in a post a few days ago, and noted him as saying, “I do not fear death, as I died long ago.” And his mother . . . tonight I think of her, and grieve.

___________________________________________________________________________UPDATE Update Wednesday 2/13: A body is seen, but has not been removed from the cabin. Positive identification has not been made but officials believe the person to be Chris Dorner.

A Dark and Stormy Night

We walked down the stairs. I pushed the button, watched the garage door open and stared into thick white fog. Ken and Nancy’s house across the street was invisible. “Jerry, we can’t drive in this.”

We were dressed for church and would attend a special prophecy meeting down in Rialto. We knew cold weather and snow were predicted for tonight, but neither of us had noted that we were already socked in with fog. Back upstairs, I checked the internet to see if anyone had posted about road conditions lately, and noticed then that a winter storm warning had been upgraded by the National Weather Service and that we are predicted to receive 6 to 8 inches of snow beginning around midnight tonight. Jerry called Rebecca and told her we wouldn’t make it to the meeting.

An ominous atmosphere already surrounded us here in the San Bernardino Mountains, and we had left extra lights on in the house as we had headed down to the car. There is a gunman loose here in our mountains, and he has already killed three people. You may have heard about it already. He was seen a few hours ago in Big Bear, after setting his truck on fire, and then escaping through the snowy grounds.

AP Photo

Policemen are combing our mountains, and crews are stationed at the foot of all highways leading into our areas. Christopher Dorner wrote and posted a 14 page manifesto in which he laid out his grievances against law enforcement agencies, and in which he listed many of them as targets. Because this is a mountain resort area, there are many unoccupied homes and cabins in which he could hide. Officers are making house to house checks trying to find him, while at the same time knowing he may have escaped this area and may have headed somewhere else.

http://news.msn.com/us/ex-cop-suspected-of-3-killings-sees-himself-as-crusader

As I worked about the house today, before I completely followed this story, I heard an announcer quote Mr. Dorner as saying, “I do not fear death, as I died long ago.”

I stopped what I was doing and called these words to Jerry’s attention. They have haunted me all day, and do so now.

Our world is so sick, so filled with sadness. Healthy looking, happy looking men and women walk among us–but they are dead. The walking dead. (Follow that link to see a good picture of him.)

What can we do? Are we doing all we can? What is causing this? I truly would like to hear your thoughts on this tonight, here on my blog. Spend a minute and leave a comment.

In the meantime, the wind is howling around our house, the temperature is dropping, the fog is thick outside our windows, and soon the snow will begin to fall.

And somewhere is Christopher Dorner . . . dead.  May God have mercy on us.

The Death of a Recluse

His name is unimportant–except that when it is chiseled onto his tombstone it will be for some the only marker of his life. He died alone. At the end of our block. Unsung for the long days and for the long black nights he lay dead in his living room floor. No one sensed it at first, for he had become a recluse, then his ex-wife (or maybe he was still married–not sure) called a neighbor; “He’s not answering the phone. Can you check?”

I said his name is unimportant, but that is only so for this post, for I understand the opposite actually to be true. On the off-chance that any of his family or friends would read here, I don’t want them to be hurt or embarrassed, for he lived a sad, angry life. My neighbor did . . . and he died alone . . . They found him Saturday night. . . only a few yards from our house.

He was a Jew, and, fearing for their lives, his parents had fled Hitler’s regime, making it to Holland where they hid for a period of time. He was a small boy when he was hid away, but he remembered, and he never recovered. I can’t know for sure, but it seems he should have bounced back from the trauma, for his being so embittered mangled his life and wrecked his chance at any positive relationships. But he chose to stay buried in the details of that sordid period of history, and he reveled in recounting the atrocities. He showed us papers and books and told us stories. He warred with most of the neighbors, put up no trespassing signs, installed heavy gates, and set cameras on high poles. He went to court over perceived offenses, and sometimes people took him to court for his odd behavior.

When we moved here, his wife still lived with him–a precious person, whose grown children were furious that she had married him, and who would have nothing to do with him. Jerry and I tried to befriend them, had them in our home several times, and listened to his stories. He gave Jerry books and spoke Hebrew in our living room. He liked Jerry and sometimes hugged him, and we liked him and his wife.

While we were gone to Lake Havasu, his wife moved out of their fine, large house and the gardens that had been the showplace of the neighborhood are now brown and bare. The towering rose bushes and the flowering vines are dead, as are most of the plants she nurtured so tenderly. She used to walk me around the yard and name the plants and tell of their characteristics.

Last Saturday, they found him, and now a big dumpster is in the driveway and a group of people are working through the place.

Have you been hurt? Did someone mistreat you? Have you been wronged? Let it go. Today. You can do that, and you will be a transformed person. Much better to suck it up, turn the page, smile again, and forgive, than to become a recluse . . . and to die alone. . .

Values and Principles

“The moment you give up your principles, and your values, you are dead, your culture is dead, your civilization is dead. Period.” — Oriana Fallaci

In a western region of the United States the teacher stood before the challenged couple, the young mother holding their newborn child. “You need to get married now, be good parents, make a home for your baby.”

“But I don’t want to get married,” the teenage mother said to the teacher.

The teacher was plainly not expecting that response. “Well, your baby needs a mother and a father.”

The mother’s smooth, matter-of-fact response spoke to her having given extensive thought to the situation. “Oh, she has a mother and a father.” She nodded her head to the boy who stood mutely beside her. “Just not a husband and a wife.”

The exceptionally beautiful baby lay asleep, oblivious to the difficulties and deprivation she will suffer.

Recently England churned out this scene:

A British school was blasted Friday after kids as young as 11 were told to shout obscenities during a lesson in swearing.

Expletives like the f-word and c-word were written on a blackboard before a teacher explained their meaning to 30 seventh graders.

S.t Laurence School in Bradford on Avon, Wilts, claims it was part of a sex and relationship education program to “dispel” the myths of swear words.

But parents say they were not consulted by head James Colquhoun about the class and say kids were left “deeply upset.”

Some pupils claim the teacher told them not to tell parents about the lesson.

More here.

Frequently now,  I feel as though I have stumbled into a rabbit hole and have entered a strange and bewildering land where ordinary principles and values evaporate as does steaming water from a heated kettle. Shame is rare. Common sense has disappeared. Moral standards that were widely accepted in recent years are disdained and mocked.

In 2006, for the first time in U.S. history, a majority of all births to women under age 30–50.4 percent–were out of wedlock. Nearly 80 percent of births among black women were out of wedlock.

From Hub Pages

It is against school regulations to hand out aspirin to students, but a girl may legally have an abortion without her parents being notified. “Sexting” is wide-spread among teen-agers and young adults. “Gay” couples demand their unnatural unions to be declared legal marriages. It’s a world gone mad.

Each of us occupies a small stand of ground, we’ve been set as guard at a compact circle of people; a few children and young people turn to us for wisdom. Though our sway may be less compelling than we wish, and our rank notched on the lower end of the scale, let our fist stay tight, let our grip stay firm on those values and principles that lie at core of Christian values. For if such go…I fear for our existence.

Arrested! Second Degree Murder Charges for Killing Our Daniel

It has now been confirmed. Tina Means has been arrested here in Lake Havasu, charged with second-degree murder and two counts of aggravated assault.

A Lake Havasu City woman was arrested Monday on charges of second-degree murder and two counts of aggravated assault in relation to the fatal head-on collision March 17 that critically injured two local men and claimed the life of a 9-year-old boy.

 

Lake Havasu City police arrested Tina M. Means, 37, at her home in the 3700 block of Sloop Drive at approximately 11:30 a.m. after blood tests revealed her blood alcohol concentration to be .26 percent at the time of the accident that allegedly caused the death of Daniel Halliday, of Lake Havasu City.

“The arrest was very simple, like she expected it was coming,” said Lake Havasu City Police Sgt. Troy Stirling.

Means’ arrest came two days after Mohave County Sheriff’s Office arrested her Friday on felony charges of aggravated assault with a deadly weapon, endangerment and multiple DUI charges related to an incident on State Route 95 March 3, according to a Mohave County Sheriff’s Office press release issued Monday.

Last week, Daniel Halliday was riding in a Ford Bronco driven by his father, Dustin Halliday, 31, and front-seat passenger George Hope, 47, when the Bronco was involved in a crash in the 2900 block of Daytona Avenue at approximately 3:45 p.m. March 17, according to earlier reports in the Today’s News-Herald.

Means was reportedly driving a Toyota pickup truck traveling eastbound on Daytona Avenue in excess of 50 mph in a 35 mph zone when she swerved across the centerline and into the path of the westbound Ford. The two vehicles collided head on causing the Ford Bronco to roll onto its side and catch fire, reports said.

Daniel Halliday was pronounced dead at the scene.

Dustin Halliday and passenger Hope were air-evacuated to the University Medical Center Burn Unit in Las Vegas, according to earlier reports.

The driver of the Ford Bronco and the passenger, for whom Means was charged with two counts of aggravated assault, remain in critical but stable condition at the burn unit in Las Vegas, Stirling said Monday.

Means was transported by ambulance to Havasu Regional Medical Center from the accident scene, where she was treated and released, police said.

Means was booked into Lake Havasu City Police Department holding facility to await her bond hearing.

The March 3 incident involved MCSO deputies dispatched to the area of Cattail Cove where a Good Samaritan was with a vehicle that was allegedly traveling northbound in the southbound lane on SR95, MSCO authorities said.

When county deputies arrived, they contacted the female driver, later identified as Means, who was reportedly in an unresponsive state and was emitting an odor of alcohol, according to the MSCO.

“We thought we were dealing with a medical issue,” said Trish Carter, MCSO public information officer.

River Medical ambulance service transported Means to Havasu Regional Medical Center where routine blood samples were collected from Means for further analysis in the Arizona Crime Lab.

The Good Samaritan, a witness, told MCSO he was traveling southbound on SR95 approaching the upward left turn at milepost 167 when he saw a vehicle heading toward him in the southbound lane. The Samaritan said he avoided a head-on collision with the oncoming vehicle by turning into the shoulder.

The witness further reported he turned his vehicle around and watched the suspect’s vehicle drive back across the highway and onto the shoulder where the vehicle came to a stop. The witness turned the suspect’s vehicle off and it was later towed from the scene, according to MCSO.

MCSO deputies arrested Means for her alleged involvement in the March 3 incident at approximately 2:30 p.m. last Friday at her residence on the 3700 block of Sloop Drive where she was taken into custody without incident.

The Arizona Crime Lab revealed Means blood alcohol concentration was .32 at the time of the March 3 incident on SR95, the press release said.

Means was transported and booked into the Mohave County District 3 Substation jail, according to the press release.

Means was released Saturday at 1:30 p.m. from the Mohave County District 3 Substation jail when she satisfied a $1,000 cash bail, Carter said.

Means has previously been convicted on DUI; alcohol, drugs, toxic vapor or combination, DUI with blood alcohol concentration of more than .08 percent, and extreme DUI blood alcohol concentration of more than .15 percent in Lake Havasu Municipal Court in August 2002, according to Arizona Supreme Court records.

From Lake Havasu Herald

 

Josef Fritzl Guilty! Elizabeth Appears in Court

Guilty! So said the jury responsible for handing down a verdict concerning Josef Fritzl, the dungeon monster. In a surprise move, Elizabeth appeared in the courtroom as her video was played.

Guilty of all charges, including the murder of his son, whose little body Fritzl tossed into a furnace. Full story here.

I’m sick of sin! I’m sick of seeing families torn apart and ravaged by sin. Sick of seeing them stumble blindly through a lackluster semblance of life without Jesus Christ. I’m sick of Satan’s deceit and his abysmal devices, his chains, his filthy lies. My mind and soul are wrenched as I watch innocent children systematically destroyed. I look at mothers and fathers as they cast about with no direction–not a clue–while children grab pointlessly at the pant-legs of their daddies and the skirts of their mothers, pleading for a line, a course, a way. Instead they are met with vacuous and witless stares. Too many despairing parents take up another needle, gulp down a numbing pill, or pour one more shot. I look at my world and weep.