Peanut Butter Death Threats

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There are few creatures in life more suspicious and cautious than animals that have been abused. Doesn’t matter if it’s physical or emotional, they’re not very trusting.

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Too many Hitchcock movies lately.

Too many Hitchcock movies lately.

Stormy has a … well, let’s call it a medical issue. Nothing major, but some antibiotics are in order for a week or two. There are two ways to give any dog their pills: ram it down their throat and really make them mad, or coat the pill in a blob of peanut butter and make them happy.

With normal dogs this works just fine. With paranoid dogs it lasts about 3 days before they spot the pill going into the peanut butter and decide you’re trying to kill them. I’m not sure if she checks her water for “Mickey’s” or not, but she sure doesn’t trust the peanut butter as of this morning.

She licked all the loose stuff off my finger and left the pills clinging like failed mountaineers on an ice sheet, liable to plummet to their death at any moment. I tried again and she looked at me like I’d finally lost it – nobody eats poison willingly.

So, modified/compromise method – stick peanut butter finger into mouth past the majority of the razor sharp fangs and smear pill and peanut butter off on molars. She had to swallow them at that point.

Any suggestions on what I do tonight? So far my lifetime approved method of getting meds in dogs has just failed. Doggone smart girl, that Stormy.

Wish me luck!

The Heart Of A Servant.

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Every day of the year there are people out and about acting as the hands and feet of Christ. You may see them here and there in your travels, or you may find them invisible. But they are there around the clock.

Some are easily spotted, like the volunteer guides at the hospital. Many of the people who help you find rooms and laboratories are volunteers. They expect no pay except a smile. And they don’t even get that every time. They understand that people in time of sickness and injury need a steady hand at their elbow to navigate the corridors. Many of them will take the time to pray with you if you ask. They’d be delighted.

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Other volunteers are a bit trickier to spot. They are the ones who labor from their homes running websites, organizing phone banks, and registering other volunteers to do their duties. Some are wheelchair bound, some with mental health problems that prevent them from feeling comfortable face-to-face, and others are young or old people who just prefer to work from their home.

The group of volunteers who catch the orders for food, make sure the laundry is done, and organize the social activities in missions and group homes around the country have a special place in God’s heart. They work under often trying conditions to help others help themselves. Sometimes they are simply there to talk and counsel, other times they teach trades, and still other times they simply pray for the residents. But they are there around the clock in many cases to make sure that spiritual warfare is waged on behalf of those in need.

Some maintain rescue animal services. They provide for God’s creatures that have been cast out of their homes through no fault of their own. They make sure that the animals are well cared for and they seek new homes where love can flow again in the lives of the people and critters involved.

The final group (and there are many others, these are just the ones I thought of today) consists of missionaries. I know one man, Thomas, who is involved with Healing Haiti. Not only does Thomas spend significant time in Haiti each year, but he’s a cheerleader, mentor, and supporter of the mission teams that go down to that island nation to bring the love that is often missing in their lives. When the teams come back to the United States, Thomas is usually there to meet them with hot pizza, hugs, and thanks for their work over the past week. He’s the smiling face you see when you clear the security area and go to pick up your bags. The man with the pizza and the grin.

All of these people are Christ’s hands and feet. Please give some thought to what they do right now. Can you do something like this for your fellow man? Can you take a moment to pray for those who do? Will you step outside of your comfort zone and take a bit of the burden from their shoulders?

Be blessed.

Congratulations To Judy Liautaud

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My friend Judy Liautaud is a finalist in the 2014 Next Generation Indie Book Awards contest for her book Sunlight on My Shadow. I’m always pleased to see other authors do well, especially since I loved her book. (Hint: go to Amazon.com and buy the book right now.)

Sunlight on My Shadow - available at Amazon.com

Sunlight on My Shadow – available at Amazon.com

If you’d like to know more about Judy, click on this link to an interview I did with her in 2013.

Now get back to work all of you. I’ve got editing to do on another project!

Man, I love That Church.

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I am one of those people who fell away from God and church for a long time as a younger adult. The reasons don’t matter – it’s stupid to ignore God. I found out He’s totally in charge, real, and important. But I missed seeing that for some years.

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When I found my way back I had a good experience that then turned bad. Again, details don’t matter, except that unlike many baby Christians who wander into a toxic church, my faith survived. I knew in my heart that I was doing the right thing, but in the wrong place.

I searched for over a year before joining a new church. At times I was attending two Sunday services and a couple of Bible studies in different churches each week. That way I wasn’t a “traitor” to my then current church, but I could start to break the shackles that it had put on me.

I found, or God guided me to, Shiloh Missionary Baptist Church. I promised my wife that I’d be low key for a change. No offices sought, no great deeds done, “just a member, honey.” And I was true to my word for a couple of years.

Last year I took up a few little tasks for the church. I suggested some changes to social media and then butted out. I came in and helped mow the lawn and sprayed for weeds. No biggie, but it felt pretty good to do something helpful. I liked looking at the dead weeds and thinking how it was a little something I actually was good at in this life. (I used to do it professionally – then again, what haven’t I done?)

Recently the church asked me to participate on a committee. With my crazy work schedule, blogging, writing novels, being a husband, voice over, acting, dog ownership, gardening, and general chaos, this presented a challenge. I agreed to help, but not attend meetings. I couldn’t spread myself that thinly and still do justice to the other stuff. Until Saturday.

I attended a meeting and loved it. I had good stuff to contribute and didn’t get a ton of tasks to do in return. They respected my time and my request to just kibbitz. Annette, the chairwoman, is so organized and so wonderful to deal with (she’s made of steel and I respect that) that it was actually fun.

But that’s just a little thing. What I’m really enjoying is my weekly picture at the service. I have a great application on my Android phone called Paper Artist. Each week I take a picture of something going on up on the podium and post it to various social media that I use. I try to use a different filter each time, a different topic, a different message. It’s working – people are sharing the pictures. One from this week is below this paragraph.

Shiloh Missionary Baptist Church on Mother's Day

Shiloh Missionary Baptist Church on Mother’s Day

So, what’s the point? In most of our church lives we’re spectators. We’ve been wounded, or are afraid to be wounded, and so we sit back and do nothing. I was for a long time. But now I’m participating. A big part of that is sharing my joy and witnessing to others about my faith. Facebook isn’t just for pictures of your cat. It can be about your faith and your love of God. I’d like to challenge each of you to take that step of faith and spread the Gospel via instagram, facebook, twitter, or some other medium. And join a committee – even if it’s just the clean up group for the next church social. Your help is what makes it all work. You can be the hands and feet of Christ without having to go to the rainforest. You can do it right in your town this very week. Now, get on with it!

Shabbat Shalom. Is It Once Again The Shoa?

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Traditionally the Jewish Sabbath begins at sundown on Friday, extending for 24 hours. I fear that a sundown of sorts is coming once again for the Jewish peoples of the world, especially in light of the recent events in Ukraine. A new Shoa seems to be in the making.

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I am a student of history. One of the most disturbing aspects of life today is the rise of casual antisemitism. The influx of Islamic extremists in Europe has led to large no-go zones for Jews in cities such as Paris. Jewish schools, businesses, and synagogues are under attack once again. Europe is seeing the largest exodus of Jews since the formation of the state of Israel. To many in Europe, it’s time to get out while the getting is good.

How could it be that we’re back to where we were a mere 70 years ago? How can the world accept this horror once again? Largely because we’ve allowed the pinheads who deny the Holocaust a platform to spew their hate. We say stupid things like, “You’re entitled to your opinion” when they allow their black little souls exit into our world and spread their vile lies. We allow things like a homework assignment questioning the Holocaust into our schools as an exercise in thought. We close our eyes and hope that once again it won’t sweep us up in it’s wake.

No problem is so great that it can’t be countered with “But Israel is an apartheid state.” Really. Dig a little deeper folks and look at the reality of a state where Jews and Arabs have citizenship of equal value. “But the Israelis worked with South Africa on nuclear weapons. They are the same!” Nice argument. Holds no water. We’ve worked (as a nation) with many other nations that we aren’t too crazy about on a moral level, but it didn’t mean we held all the same views.

The rise of the current wave of antisemitism is linked to those who deny the Shoa (Holocaust) ever took place. There is an excellent show running on the Smithsonian Channel right now entitled Treblinka: Hitler’s Killing Machine. Click on the link and watch it when it runs next. You’ll be amazed that we have to produce artifacts to prove that it happened.

I know it happened. I’ll tell you my story and let you be the judge of its veracity. A small item first: I’ve seen the tattoos on the arms of the survivors. I’ve gone to the homes of the survivors. They are real. The camps were real. I’ve been to the most famous one in Germany, Dachau.

In 1988 my wife and I toured Europe by train. We’d taken 30 days leave from the military and just wandered from place to place. By coincidence, or God’s hand, we wound up not very far from Dachau. Only 25 minutes via train from Munich it was too close not to visit. So on a dark November day we traveled to this small place which plays such a large part in history.

I had often wondered what it would be like to visit one of the camps. Dachau wasn’t a Vernischstslager, extermination camp. Instead it was a Konzentrationslager. That would be small comfort to any of the 41,000 people who died there, for them it was a death camp. I also wondered, as we drew closer to the town, how one could send a Christmas card with Dachau as a return address. Didn’t it cry out to the soul to abandon this place, the beginning of the network of camps that riddled Europe before the end of the war?

We walked from the station to the camp. With each step the presence of evil became more tangible. Mocking, dark, fetid, and oppressive beyond comprehension, it was there in the atmosphere. As we entered the gate I knew in my heart that Satan walked the earth – this ground was still his kingdom. I could feel the souls in anguish around me – truly a haunting in progress. The grounds conveyed the past and what it meant – exhibits of the barracks, the torture implements, the sense of hopelessness that must have crushed the inmates. But the ghosts wandering the ground stayed just out of sight – shadows casting their wavering presence under the snowy skies.

The Holocaust took place. It could happen again tomorrow. I sense, and I imagine many of you have sensed it as well, the roar of the mob rushing us headlong toward fascism once again. The urge to strike down your opponent by ruining him financially, terrorizing his family, driving him from his home. It’s not just Jews, but anyone the mob opposes. We’re drifting back in time toward that last day of June, 1934.

I hope we never see another Shoa. I hope people wake up and say, “No. It will not happen on my watch.” But I fear it may be too late for Ukraine. France. Great Britian. No need to erect the camps this time, the lack of government support for the rights of individuals will do just as well. Will we see it here as well?

That, gentle reader, is up to each and every one of us.