Benghazi isn’t going to vanish. No matter how long the administration slow-walks this ugly dog it will still be shedding fleas and slobber in our living room until somebody gives the thing a bath and sprays it with insecticide. Please follow me on Twitter, and “Like” the Facebook author page.
The White House had Monica Lewinsky’s former boyfriend’s wife over for lunch this week. Anyone who had hopes that she was there to beg Obama for permission to come clean on what happened in Libya last year is in need of some serious detoxification. The cover-up is in full swing and now it’s officially in the “Ancient History” box at the bottom of the dungeon stairs in Washington.
It is a disgrace and an insult to the American people that our government is still lying about what happened on September 11, 2012. Their refusal to disclose what happened is an abomination. I don’t like being lied to and ignored. So, because today is not an anniversary of the event in any way I am dedicating the blog to the men who lost their lives in service to this country in Benghazi.
Mr. President, I demand you do your job as Commander in Chief. I want to know where the chain of ignorance began and ended. I want to know why an attack that was in progress for hours on end wasn’t responded to in some military fashion. Not even so much as an alert force started moving. No jets, no commandos, no nothing. Unacceptable.
If I am wrong, tell me. But to continue to feed me horse droppings and expect me to like it is unrealistic. You, my readers, should not accept this either. Demand the truth. Post on your blog. Put up a note on Facebook. Send an email to the White House. Call your Congressional delegation and demand answers.
Do not let this terrorist assault on United States diplomatic personnel go unremarked and forgotten. They deserve better than to be ignored. Ambassador Chris Stevens, Ty Wood, Glen Doherty, and Sean Smith are the names you must remember.
To do less would be as disgraceful as the behavior of our administration.
There’s a broken railing at the widget factory where I work. It has been broken for over two months at this point. But there are some very important paper signs taped to it that say, “Do not use. Broken.”
Well, DUH. The fact that it hangs by two bolts and jiggles when you brush against it could be a clue. But it seems that the building authorities aren’t in a big hurry to get it fixed. That will change the moment someone grabs on to it when they slip and it finishes tearing out of the wall. The injured employee will have a dilly of a lawsuit just waiting to be filed. Assuming it’s not their estate that has to process the court papers.
I walk by that railing twice a day on my way into and out of the building. It’d be easy to fix if you had the time and the tools. I’m thinking about an hour to bore out the hole cleanly, fill it with quick drying concrete or resin, and it would require a new lag bolt in a couple of spots. Temporarily secure it in place with a sheet metal strap that can be removed when it dries and the whole thing is fixed.
The simple fact is that it hasn’t happened for two months because management is used to seeing it broken. And nobody has been hurt – yet.
Our spiritual lives often resemble that broken railing. We have a few loose bolts that we ignore every time we look at them. We skip church, don’t pray, don’t take care of the poor, don’t read scripture (guilty) as often as we should, and we don’t have a personal relationship with God. We spend our time convincing ourselves that that railing between the first and second floors is for other people who “really need it.”
The truth is that we all need to have that railing steady and supported. You can slip and stumble at any moment. While God has his hand out to you all the time in the form of a spiritual railing, if the foundation you’ve built for that railing is crumbling it won’t hold you when it needs to support your whole weight.
I stick to the other side of the stairwell where the railing is bolted solidly into the brick. I try to do that in my spiritual life as well. But one of these days, if I don’t keep those bolts firmly anchored, I’ll stumble and reach out for a support that just tears away with me and tumbles down. Maybe I’d best start repairing that railing today.
Are there railings in your life that have started to pull away from the wall? Where do you need to spend some time in repair work?
I wont’ go through the whole journey from the first time I picked up a pencil in first grade until this past week, but I do want to offer some words of encouragement to my fellow authors who are seeking to get published: Get out there and pitch!
I was still writing my first book three years ago. I never had any intention of publishing the work, it was simply going to be a birthday present for my wife. I’d had dreams of being an author for a long time, but after seeing several friends fail at making it in the industry I’d decided to concentrate on getting a paycheck at the widget factory where I work.
But God steps in and guides us when we’re sensitive enough to hear His words. I knew when I started that book that it would be something special. It often seemed like I was just a transcriptionist for God. I spent a lot of hours of prayer during the period when I wrote the book. I listened to Him and tried my best.
I was so proud to hand my wife the book on her birthday. I’d gone to an on-demand printer I’d found on the internet and made a single hard-cover copy for her. She loved it – probably as a result of loving me, because the work wasn’t all that great.
I printed some paperback copies to give to friends so that I could get some feedback. That is when, as an author, most people throw in the towel: the first bashing of your work by others. I was blessed in that most of the criticism was aimed at improving the book. Only one critic turned it into a personal attack. And that hurt more than I can even describe.
But I persevered and went through that process three more times. Just a few months later I entered the book in the Genesis contest at ACFW. The feedback was invaluable. Brutal. But not mean. I actually walked away encouraged. Terrible scores, but lots of new information on making it a better book.
That fall, 2011, I went to the ACFW conference in Saint Louis. I had no clue what I was doing and it showed. Thankfully they tag you like a wild animal with a sticker that says “First Time” so that people don’t laugh at you for your silly behavior.
Two things happened there in that hotel that have changed my life a great deal. First of all, I failed in my pitches to publishers and agents. That was cool, actually became friends with one of the agents and learned a great deal about the vast amount of preparation that needs to go into the pitch of a book. The agent helped me to get it in better shape and provided a great deal of encouragement over time. They elected not to represent me and that was good as well. It made me work that much harder on what I was writing.
The second thing that Saint Louis is memorable for is meeting Larry W. Timm. He’s now one of my closest friends and a valued associate in my journey. Interestingly enough, we were both signed by the same agency on the same day. God, again, with his hand on the tiller.
My work continued with a new book and several books in the works. Nothing popped with agents, publishers, or much of anything else until this past fall/winter. That’s when I finished in second place in the Athanatos Ministries Christian Novel Contest.
That gave me the fortitude to strut around the Blue Ridge Christian Writers Conference and really enjoy myself. I didn’t go to pitch my book but to learn more about my craft. And then God stepped in again.
One of the agents presenting at the conference struck a chord in my addled brain. She was looking for books like mine. The problem was that my gimpy leg didn’t allow me to move quickly enough to get on the sign-up sheet for interviews until it was already full. I assumed it was just fate and God didn’t have a place for me on the roster of authors quite yet.
The next night I was getting ready to swipe my card on a vending machine and get a soda. A woman’s voice asked if I’d hold on a second, she had already put some money in and wanted to finish her transaction. Seemed she was a quarter short and had stepped away to borrow it from a friend.
I turned and looked – it was the agent I’d wanted to talk with but couldn’t get a slot. I’m brash, and probably a bit nuts. My response was, “Sure. Go ahead. It will cost you an interview.”
She was kind enough to say yes. And, after we met the next day I walked away happy. She liked the idea for the book and we seemed to hit it off on a personal level.
Last week she offered to represent me. The next day my wife pointed out that this was a second career for me. And that she’d help by allowing me to carve out the time to do the work. I love my wife. She’s a great partner and my best friend.
It is with great pleasure that I embark on my new career. No longer just a member of the “I’d like to…” club, but now blessed with an advocate in my corner – Jessica Kirkland.
And the moral of the story for others who want to write? Don’t give up your dream. You will face criticism, adversity, failure, disappointment, writer’s block, personal humiliation, and any other obstacle you can name. I’m not published yet. But if I’d quit pursuing this goal every time something negative came up, I’d never know the answer to the question “Can I make it?” The answer is still pending – but I’m a lot closer today than I was a week ago.
What challenge are you facing that causes you doubt? Are you willing to forego sleep and time with your loved ones to pursue that dream? How hard will you work to spread God’s word?
One last thing: I’d really appreciate it if you’d all continue to pray for me. I’m no longer on the sidelines but I’m just lining up for the starter’s gun on this race. I need that spirutual warfare on my side as I try and move on to publishing that first novel.
This past week my vehicle, a large SUV, needed to have some work done. Like a good little consumer I took it to the dealership where I bought it for an oil change and left with a service appointment.
Before you point any fingers, they were running a special 21% off any work over $100 and because I bought the vehicle there they throw in a free loaner.
It is important to remember that I’m not exactly petite. Some might use a description like “Lumbering Oaf” to describe me. At Six feet tall, 350 pounds I’m not exactly “economy sized” by anyone’s lights.
As I waited to get my loaner car I asked for the biggest one they had. The clerk, clearly a man with a sense of humor, pointed to a silver car out in the drive area. It was the exact same size as the other two escapees from Ringling Brothers. All that was missing was a baker’s dozen clowns to occupy the vehicle.
Clown Car
I wasn’t sure if he was kidding or not, but it became painfully obvious that he was dead serious. It took a few tries to get in past the opening. I was reminded of my days on submarines. I would have been called a “hatch plug” because I filled the hatch and you could submerge the ship with that tight a fit in the opening. My elderly, recently operated on, knees didn’t like it much either. I had the wheel all the way up, the seat all the way back, and I still had to twist and turn to get in.
Once inside it wasn’t much better. My head touched the ceiling. No, make that: My head was two inches higher than the roof when I sat up straight. It meant I would be driving hunched down. I couldn’t straighten my legs or arms, and I was more snugly inserted into the driver’s seat than Andre The Giant in the cockpit of a Kaiten.
As I drove away the service manager ran out to the car. When I stopped and powered the window down he stood a few feet back and tossed an aerosol can through the open window. “Take this, it will make it easier to get in next time.” It was a can of “Pam.”
My transit home was frightening. I couldn’t see much out of the windows. It was rather like driving a Panzer II and only having the driver’s slit to peer through – small windows, bad angles, and low view point. I figured my outlook was skewed until I pulled in to my garage and had to look up to see the top of my lawnmower. Not kidding, it sat lower than the handle on the Lawn-boy. And, amazingly enough, it had the same engine.
After extricating myself from the soda can I creaked inside the house and went to bed.
That night I left a bit early for work so that I could grab something to eat. My choice was reduced to places that had drive-through service, because I knew I’d never get out and back in without the can of Pam. I’d left it on the counter.
Happily I survived the brush with claustrophobia. Upon returning the car to the dealership the next morning I was relieved to see Bobo and his crew ready to take it back and give me my beloved red beast. It did inform my next purchase in the automotive world: anything but that little clown car.
Thanks for dropping in for Sponsorship Sunday. I took last week off to rejoice in the life of my friend Ed. This week I’m rejoicing over these marvelous children who need your help.
Please take some time to read about this week’s resident at Grace Village. And I would respectfully ask that before you go back to The Drudge Report, you pray for three minutes for this child. Perhaps God will give you a nudge while you’re at it and you’ll help that child live a better life.
Thank you in advance for your kindness.
This week’s child is: Loody.Loody’s brother is already sponsored, so how about we make it a pair?
Loody
Loody lives at Grace Village with his brother, Gedeon. Loody loves the Lord and has been given the gift of discipleship, he loves to tell others about God. Loody understands the importance of an education and takes his schooling very seriously. Loody’s favorite subject in school is algebra and he also has a favorite song, Our God is Greater. Loody wants to be a pastor when he grows up so that he can preach the gospel. Loody’s prayer request is for his life to be changed so that he can live a life to please God.
Loody and his brother, Gedeon, are orphans and have no one to care for them and now call Grace Village their home.
Birth Info
Birthdate: November 10, 1996
Place of Birth: Damien, Haiti
It is my hope that one of you will find your heart touched by this child and take up a bit of Christ’s work by sponsoring them for an extended period. My wife and I are sponsoring a pair of sisters and I look at it this way – I only gave up a fast-food dinner each day to change the life of a child. Healing Haiti will do the right things for these children and I have full confidence in their work. I am not affiliated with them, they don’t endorse this blog, nothing like that at all. I just love kids (can’t be Santa and not love children) and know that Grace Village is the difference between life and death for many of these children. Please open your heart and prayerfully reflect on the opportunity God’s giving us to sponsor these children. Some of them have come out of slavery and have some of the toughest lives you could imagine prior to Grace Village.
