Cows, Beaches, Babies

Today’s post is once again from my friends at Reimagine Haiti. I hope you find it as interesting as I did.

All content is theirs, and I claim no credit for what they write. But I pray for them and hope you will as well.

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Reimagine Haiti is the brainchild of three long-term missionaries, living and working in Haiti. With 10+ combined years on-the-ground, we concluded the need to REIMAGINE the non-profit concept and create something fresh, unique and innovative. We have entrenched our peppy new organization in the SE region of Belle Anse and pledged to be tenacious advocates of total community advancement! By tossing aside the detrimental practice of hand-outs in favor of galvanizing relationships, we will be a catalyst for change today and lead a renaissance of prosperity and sustainability for the future generations of Haiti.

The Founders

The Founders

Thirsty to know more? Intrigued? Just plain confused? Be enlightened in all the usual places.

On the web: www.reimaginehaiti.org
Facebook: facebook.com/Reimaginehaiti
Twitter: @ReimagineHaiti

And of course, our blogs.

Today’s blog comes from co-founder (and malnutrition recovery expert), Brittany:

http://thoughtsfromthethirdworld.wordpress.com/

I stared at the tiny mound of dirt just 3 feet away. ”That’s my baby” he said, “we just buried her today.”

Those words never get any easier to hear, they never get any less significant, and they always make me think, “what if that was my child?” boatsandcows

Cafou Bod is a very small village far off in the mountains of Belle Anse. Hardly anyone goes there, and no foreigner has ever traveled there. But there we were, on our way, excited and naïve. We started our journey on a small fishing boat. We traveled about an hour along the coast that was surrounded by cliffs until we finally reached a flat piece of land. It was not easy, by any means. The waves were so big that all of us were thrown into the water, and a few of us were pretty badly injured. But we made it. We walked along the beach with the dozens of cows who were coming to get water.

We hiked 6 hours deep into the mountains that day. We had bottled water and a protein bar in our backpacks, knowing there wouldn’t be any clean drinking water or food once we set out on our journey. We followed a path marked by dirty footprints, because there was no road. When the dirt stopped, we waited for a kind woman or child walking by with a gallon of water on their head to ask for directions. Usually they were kind enough to show us the way and let us follow them for a mile or so. Then they would point us in the right direction and wish us luck.

For more, go to:

http://thoughtsfromthethirdworld.wordpress.com/seasidecows

The Thorazine Is On The Counter To Your Rear.

I hesitated for a long time (a day) before writing this blog post. I’m sure it will draw fire from some of my fellow conservatives, and undoubtedly from some of my fellow veterans. Eh, I’m always in the soup for something, might as well be this blog for a change.

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There is a great deal of angst on the internet right now over three incidents involving the military: the Honor Guard with the stupid pictures, the airman French kissing the POW/MIA emblem, and the Commanding Officer/Command Master Chief who solicited funds from a strip club for a golf tournament sponsorship. I’m not going to participate in the hand-wringing, and I’m more than happy to explain why right here, right now.

Let’s start with the honor guard. They were in training. It wasn’t a casket with remains. It was a stupid caption to a couple of stupid pictures. The only real crime here is that they were dumb enough to take pictures and post them on Facebook. If they’d kept the humor to themselves it would have been without notice for eternity. I can recall more smart-aleck comments during training than I would care to disclose. I wouldn’t want to be on an honor guard simply because of the tense nature of the job and the high standards they must uphold in front of the grieving family and the public. I wasn’t sharp enough in uniform to pull it off – my inner slob wouldn’t let me be a model sailor when it came to that duty. I did it once: it was cold, it was raining buckets, and I botched Taps. Not fun. I felt badly that I didn’t honor the deceased properly due to my lack of skills.

It’s not too surprising that the people in training blew off a little steam. For all of you calling for their heads on a platter, let’s spend a few honest moments thinking about our own behavior under similar circumstances. I’m quite sure a few of you never smirked, never thought evil thoughts, never broke formation and let it fly. Nope. Never. Not me. Liars.

It’s human nature. As long as they accord the families and the honored dead the proper respect when the time comes, let this drop. Bite their faces off verbally, and let it go. Take the ranking person in the group picture into the office, brace them up (position of attention for civilians) and make them sweat. Then send them out to march around the base with a full set of weapons and flags for a couple of sweaty afternoons in the sun. Then be done with it. Call it extra military instruction, don’t flag their files, and then act like the leaders you are supposed to be. Leaders correct stupid first, punish second. Unless they flip the lever again, call it even.

The second incident: it was tacky and stupid. That’s about it. No need to bust this woman down to E-1 and torture her dog, no formal letter of reprimand, nothing more than a verbal counseling that would go something like this: “I know the picture is over three years old. I hope you’ve matured in the meantime and I never see anything like this again. This is the end of the issue, no paper trail, no hit on your evaluation. Just pray that I never get wind of anything like this again and we’re good. If you repeat the mistake, I’ll flatten you like a paper cup under the nose gear of a B-52 at full takeoff weight. Clear?”

It was 3 years ago. She’s now an NCO with a good record according to reports. Before any of you write me an email/letter/Facebook post lecturing me about POW/MIA issues, the torture that goes on of our people, and how I’m unfit to lace their boots, let me remind you: I signed on for the ride. I was willing to go there. So was this young enlisted person. Everybody makes mistakes. It’s that whole Christian thing to forgive mistakes as far as I know. Was she a dope? Yes.

It’s an old picture. I really never understood the need to get vindictive about discipline over stuff like this – a good chew is more than enough. My Chief taught me that when I wrote up a sailor for a security violation. He (a great man, my Chief) persuaded me to make the kid miserable for a few days and not wreck his career. I’m glad he counseled me about my counseling. That kid, the sailor who made the mistake, went on to retire as a Senior Chief. Good for him. Glad I didn’t ruin his life because I was angry. That’s what real leaders do: they teach lessons, not ruin lives.

If they repeat the offense, then hammer them. But a whole bunch of my fellow vets who are yammering away on this topic on the web seem to have forgotten some of the stunts and stupid things they did in their youth. The big difference is that we didn’t have cell phones and nobody knew about the internet. Thank, God. If Facebook was around when I had chevrons I’d probably be buried under the jail. So let’s quit yelling at the kids to get off of our lawn, eh?

Now, on to our last evil-doers: The Commanding Officer and his Senior Enlisted Adviser who solicited donations from a strip club or two. I told this story to a coworker of mine. She laughed. “So, they’re in trouble for getting some money donated that originally belonged to their sailors?” That’s about the size of it.

Once upon a time, there were strip clubs inside the enlisted facilities on some military bases. There was one of those sad little outfits in the enlisted club where I had my first drink in uniform. Gotta tell you, never did anything for me. I just felt bad for the woman. In general the whole concept of strip clubs is pathetic. It lends itself to human trafficking and prostitution. On the other hand, I vaguely remember more than a few sailors frequenting those places. So it seems like kind of a natural thing that the committee that was fundraising for the submarine ball might wind up there for a donation.

Is it tacky? Yes. Is it politically incorrect? Yes. Is it something I would do? No. But since the guy was a submarine officer it probably didn’t seem all that strange. I kind of, sort of, vaguely, remember even officers going into those places. But to fire the guy over that and ruin his career *(both of them)* is over the top. There is some indication that contractors were solicited for donations, and that may be a violation of the ethics code. But the initial reports from the Navy made it clear that the issue was that strip clubs were solicited for donations. Legal businesses. Businesses that pay taxes. Businesses that have a lot of sailors visit.

This post may surprise some of you. But the politically correct insanity that permeates our military is going to eventually make everyone so nervous, and prone to punishing people versus leading them, that we’ll ruin the next generation of volunteers. We did that prior to WWII with our military. We made everything prim and proper, eliminated risk, sanctioned wild behavior, and wound up with leadership that almost lost the war.

I, for one, am fine with men and women that get a little crazy on occasion. After all, we’re asking them to take a bullet when the time comes. Let’s let the rules be used with common sense. No massive loss of blood, no broken bones, no criminal offense, and no foul. This is a leadership issue. It’s tough to lead. It’s even tougher to go to war with bean-counters in charge.

That is all.

The Great Disconnect – Our Elites Never Go To Mickey’s Diner at 0330 Monday Morning.

In the normal course of events you will rarely find a political appointee or elected official at Mickey’s Dining Car at 0330 on a Monday morning. That’s a shame. There’s a lot to be learned at that hour.

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I’m not a populist by any stretch of the imagination. But the arrogance of our political elites galls me beyond words most days. The people at the top of the political pile (on both sides) look down their noses as the plebeians struggle along in the dirt. The elite seem to think it’s their right to rule. After all, they are better educated and far more interested in our social welfare than the dullards I surround myself with – just ask them!

As a result, they will never be around for conversations like I had on a -10 degree morning while eating a bacon cheeseburger. The guy at the end of the counter was obviously living on the street. The general condition of his clothing, the menu item he chose, the plastic bag luggage spoke volumes. Big deal. Seriously, he was just another patron to me, but I did take a few minutes to pray over my meal and ask God to keep guys like him warm on this cold night.

Back to the conversation. As he gathered his stuff and made to leave he said, “Why do you think those Iranian warships are heading for our coast?” I laughed and said it was to provide target practice for our nuclear submarines. Dead serious, he replied, “No, they’re really off the coast. Why do you think they’re there?” He pointed at the news ticker on the building down the road that was reeling off the headlines.

He had no idea who I was (I’m nobody – ask Mary behind the counter) or that I had some vague understanding of the Middle East and foreign policy matters. But I gave him an honest answer, befitting his level of interest. “I don’t think they’ll make it to the coast, and it’s just one warship and an auxiliary as far as I know. But they’re probably going to turn back before they get here due to maintenance problems.”

He shook his head. “As in love as they are with their nuclear programs, don’t you think they might have a weapon on board and will use this to get it in close and detonate it?”

In that moment he displayed more deep thinking than our chattering class has in the last ten days regarding the warships. He had done analysis and given it time in the computer bank between his ears. He has come up with a great response. I nodded. Hard to argue the possibility.

He smiled and made a final comment on his way out: “We ought to show them how real nukes work before they get here. It might discourage others from getting foolish.” With that he headed back out into the dark of night and the subzero cold.

To all the State Department wonks and weasels, and the ossified CIA analysts that lurk out there parroting what the White House wants to hear, head over to Mickey’s and have a burger next week. There are some experts there you ought to listen to – the people you work for in your jobs.

We’re not stupid, we’re not dangerous, but we are your employers. Drop on by without the camera crews and wear some old clothes. Sit at the counter and listen to what the young people say who are coming from their night shift at the bar, what the cook thinks, and what the old man in the snow suit knows about strategic deception. It will boggle your minds.

The members of the Senate, House of Representatives, and the executive branch seem to be under the impression that we work for them. Strange, I could have sworn it was all set up the other way around. My point is not to beat the black helicopters to the populist nirvana just down the road. Instead, it is to point out the upside down relationship between the power elites and our citizenry. Not subjects, citizens. We are often treated as though we were an annoyance and a hindrance to good government. I sure wish Washington, Hamilton, Jefferson, Franklin, Jackson, and Reagan were all here to school them on who’s really in charge. I threw Reagan in because he was the last president that actually got it right. The ones in the last few administrations have lost sight of that Constitution thingie.

I’m an optimist. I don’t think the best days of this nation are irrevocably in the rear-view mirror. But it’s going to be a struggle to turn this ship around and get it going the right direction. Ask the Iranians: long voyages are tough. I just hope we can turn the rudder before this beast of a government gets us up on the rocks.

Typographical Errors Abound

I’m in Colorado Springs for a conference, the Christian Writers Guild. This is fun.

I’ve been to enough of these now whee I know what a guy needs – and I’m geting it. I feel like I’m in graduate school this weekend, studying with James Scott Bell, Brandilyn Collins,
Jerry Jenkins, Andy Scheer and a host of others.

I didn’t win the big prize in Operatino First Novel, but I did predict my response perfectly: cool to be in the final five, no bad feeling at all. I got a chance to meet the winner, Brandy Cole Vallance. Her book, Covered Deep, should be out in the next few months. If it is as good as she is charming and smart I’m going to enjoy it immensely.

Sorry to send any typos your way, I’m using a micro keyboard, tablet for a screen and 54 year old eyes. I’ll probably be ashamed later, buut for right now it’s breakfast time.

Have a blessed day, more next week.

Is Your Heart Bleeding On Valentine’s Day?

Many are alone on Valentines Day, even if with others.

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I am blessed in my marriage. We’ve been together for almost three decades this weekend. I love my wife, she loves me, and we both love God. I know that in many ways this is the exception among my friends and people I know.

It is important to follow the guidance, nay, command, of Jesus that we should love one another. This weekend please spend some time in prayer for your family and friends. I hope you are blessed in your life with love as well. But not all of us are, and I need to bring that out so that we an exceed the boundaries of paper greeting cards and show love and compassion for others. Invite them out to dinner. Spend time in honest conversation. Listen to their cries.

Love those who are in loveless marriages. You will undoubtedly know someone who hates their spouse and gets the same in return. You will know people who love their spouse but are being divorced without a reason being given. They are confused, sad, and hurt in both cases. Love them and pray for them today.

Love those who have no other in their life. They are not alone if they have God, but that’s hard to focus on in the wake of destruction that loneliness leaves. They have you. It does not have to be romantic love, but filial love. Just let them know they are not alone.

There is the loneliness of age and distance. It is not always the pain of separation that hurts the most. Sometimes it’s the pain of togetherness. Pray for the elderly who have no family nearby to help them in their last years. Pray for the mother who never hears from her son and can’t figure out why. Pray for the daughter who’s father moved in “just for a while” and stays on, disrupting her life and that of her own family months later. Pray for the young person at college, or in the military, who yearns for an hour on the couch with their mom and dad but can’t afford it, or is unwanted in their own home.

Pray for those who are mentally ill and don’t feel the love that is offered them by their family. Pray for the family who won’t give up on the mentally ill but are tiring after years of dead ends.

Pray for the homeless. They are the most alone in the world.

Pray for each other – we can all use that boost. Most of all, let them know you are praying. Let them know you love them more than you can ever express. Bless them with your words.