The Star and the Wiseman

(The room is dark with only dim lighting.)

The Star: (She blinks her wooden eyes and yawns as if awakening from a long nap.)Did I just dream it? It seemed like such a long time ago…Bright lights; glowing colors all flowing together. Silver and gold and china and crystal and games and toys…And the food! The wonderful food…which I can’t even smell. Because, you see, I am only an ornament. Just a simple, uninteresting, but pretty, gold star and I was way up in this tree; right at the very top. I sat up on a tree and I came from a tree. And I am very old.

The Wiseman: (a voice booms out of the darkness.) Who is talking so much?

The Star: Who are you? Are you an ornament too?

Wiseman: A What?

Star: An ornament like me who sits on a tree. You know, those things with the spiky, green stuff coming out of them. I think they call them branches.

Wiseman: An ornament? Are you kidding? I would never be one of those things hanging around all day long and flirting with everyone. It’s like being cheap, dime store jewelry. No, I’m part of the Manger Scene. I’m a Wiseman.

Star: (excited) Really? Wow! It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Wiseman! I’m a star. I hang over everything and light your way. But, wasn’t this your first one? You must be a new ornament.

Wiseman: (angry) Hey, listen, lady! I’m not an ornament. My first what?

Star: You’re first Christmas, of course.

Wiseman: Yeah, of course. Christmas. Guess I’ll never see that again.

Star: (annoyed) You will see Christmas again! I promise! I’ve been through many of them.

Wiseman: You have, eh? Listen, Star, I need proof. It could have all been a dream.”

Star: (shocked) What do you mean, proof? And what do you mean a dream?

Wiseman: Do you honestly think Christmas will ever come again?

Star: Yes, of course it will!

Wiseman: Come on, face it! It’s over. There will never be another one. We spent a long time sitting on this shelf and we will sit here a long time.

(Other ornaments now join in with the Star in protest.)

Star: That’s not true! You don’t believe, do you?

Wiseman: No, I don’t. Only fools believe in something that you can’t see. Its not real. Reality is humans are through with us forever. Reality is we will never glow, shine or glitter ever again. Reality is we will sit on this shelf forgotten and forsaken forever!

Star: (shocked) I don’t believe you!

Wiseman: Why?

Star: Because it’s a cycle.

Wiseman: A cycle?

Star: Yeah! See that doorknob?

Wiseman: That dark round thing hanging down there?

Star: Yeah, that thing.

Wiseman: So, what about it?

Star: See all the furry things around it?

Wiseman: Yeah, so what?

Star: Well, when we are all taken down and packed up here on this shelf, behind this door, the humans hang those furry things under us. I think they’re called “coats”. Once and awhile, the door is opened and the coats are removed and then returned. As time goes on, the door is opened less and less. Have you noticed that?

Wiseman: Yeah, I’ve noticed that.

Star: Soon it won’t be opened again for a long, long time. But, you know what?

Wiseman: What? They take us back out?

Star: No, not right away. They’ll start opening and closing the door again and it gets more and more frequent.

Wiseman: So….???

Star: (excitedly) One day they take us back out and then it’s Christmas again!

Wiseman: You are so naïve. I hate to burst your little bubble of joy, but you just wait. It will never be: I know, I just know.

Star: (sighing) No, it will happen! You have to believe…I’ve never met anyone who didn’t believe. Oh, my, there’s something wet on my cheek. I hope its just sap.

Wiseman: (jeering) Ha, ha, ha, ha!!!

Narrator: A long time went by. The door stopped opening.  And, day after day, the Wiseman never failed to make a negative comment. And many times, the moist liquid would trickle down the star’s face in shame. She almost lost hope; she almost waivered, but then… then the door began to open and close and the humans started to take out the coats again and then return them. They could hear human voices again, too: voices talking, laughing, crying and yelling. The ornaments grew silent; listening carefully.  Could it really be coming again? Could the Wiseman be wrong? But then, it was quiet for a long time and the door didn’t open.

Wiseman: See, I told you! You were wrong! We’re all doomed! Its over!

Star: No, no, no, I still believe! I still believe!

Narrator: Now, she closed her eyes and didn’t cry any more, but was very sad. She entered a season of hibernation and sorrow.  Time passed by. All the ornaments went into deep sleep and didn’t realize that the door began to open and close again. And the coats were being taken out again.

Suddenly, the door burst open one day and everything was pushed aside. The ornaments started to wake up. (Star opens her eyes and rubs them.) The Star was startled to see the faces of humans smiling at her.

Man: (booming loudly) Come, children, I need some help here! Another year has passed and its time to put up the tree! Here, take these boxes!”

(People begin to remove the boxes from around the ornaments and start decorating a tree.)

Star: (very happy) Wiseman, where are you? Wiseman where are you? Its Christmas time again! Its Christmas time again!

Wiseman: (kneeling in front of a manger scene, bowing very low with his head hung down.)

Star: (to the audience) Merry Christmas we sing; glad tidings we bring!  You should never, ever, doubt the King of Kings! 

The End

And Be Ye Thankful

Thankfulness should be a way of life. No matter what happens: whatever storm or


circumstance, our lives should center around one person: Jesus Christ. He is our Life, our Hope,


our reason for existence. He loves us with an everlasting love because he died on the cross for


us. He took our place and bore all our sins, all our debts and all our faults.

          
I like the short hymn known as the Doxology: “Praise God from whom all blessings flow; praise him all creatures here below. Praise Him above ye heavenly host. Praise Father, Son and Holy Ghost.”

If we center our lives around God in the form of the Trinity we will reach a point in life of perfect balance: our spirit, soul and body will be one with Him. And, even when we get out of balance, we can pray to Him and He will restore our balance again. Just like the Lord’s prayer says: “His will be done on earth as it is in heaven.”

So, when you give thanks for this month as we head into Thanksgiving, remember it is just the pause before Christmas. And whatever you give thanks for, think about one thing: all blessings flow from Christ and all thanks should be given for all things unto Him.

“And whatsoever you do in word or deed, do all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father by him.” (Colossians 3:17)

When you feel out of it; when you feel life has really let you down; when you feel flattened in the dust of reality, pick yourself up, trust in Him and keep going. If He is our everything, our hope, our life, our peace, our all, then everything’s going to work out for His glory. Yes, He’s the one I’m thankful for above all else. Jesus is the one central theme of Thanksgiving and of Christmas too – the celebration of his birth. So, be ye thankful….Amen…..and have a blessed Thanksgiving... Laura Bentz – 11/12/10

The Eigth Floor

“What do you think’s up there?” I asked Rachel as I pulled back from my desk and stared at the elevator door.

“I dunno.” She replied absent-mindly twirling her hair as she pulled back from her computer and the huge pile of papers next to it. “Probably executive suites. Those are always on the top floor.”

“I’ve seen people go up there, but there’s no number on the elevator. Hey, you want to go check it out?” I got out my paper bag lunch and she got out hers.

“Yeah, I guess.”

The elevator went up one floor and we got off. It felt drafty and cool as the A/C hit our faces. It opened onto a vast expanse of open area where another business had once thrived. Clustered in piles on the floor were file folders stuffed with papers. Scattered cabinets and furniture were thrown around like they had been shipwrecked on some desert island. I picked up and read a few snatches of meaningless forms and carefully put them back out of respect for the dead.

“Look down there!” I exclaimed when I strolled up to the large pane glass windows and glanced down.

“Dolphins!” Rachel yelled and we both watched a pool of them swimming in circles in a huge tank.

“Those outta be freed!” she added.

Next thing we knew, we watched in fascination as someone opened a gate in the side and one dolphin swam free, zipping like lightening down a tube and disappearing. The rest were left behind to continue to swim furiously in circles.

Rachel looked back up at the sky. “Look at the clouds up here. You can almost touch them.”

 I watched as the puffs swirled around our building and hurled themselves into it. The wind whipped the flag that waved stiffly far away in the front of the building.

We sat down by the windows and put our backs to the glass to feel the sun and get some warmth.

“Still looking for a permanent job?” I asked her as I took a bite of tuna fish sandwich.

“Yes, I have to have one!” Maria took a bite of hers, too.  “Or we can’t pay our bills.”

I sighed in agreement. “I’ve been looking for one, too.”

We became silent in the quietness of the moment and ate our lunches in the vast expense of emptiness. I turned to look once more out the window and searched the fences and dumpsters of the backside of the theme park next door as if the answer to our dilemmas was written on a wall somewhere.

Finally, I got up and crumpled up my bag.

Rachel stood up, too.

“I think I’ll go exploring now. Do you want to go with me?”

“No, I’m only taking a half-hour lunch today. Got a lot to do. I better get back.”

I slipped over to a back corner and noticed a darkened corridor I hadn’t noticed before. Curiosity overtook me.  Turning through a large wooden portal and hearing the beep of the security system, I was startled to see what looked like a library full of books. They were neatly lined up on mahogany shelves and were in new, unused condition.  A lady sat working at a near-by desk.

“What’s this?” I asked. “A library?”

“No! These books are not to be touched by anyone! They are all the volumes we have ever published.”

I noticed they were mostly picture books and school books. It was then I realized I worked for a publishing company. I remembered how long ago I had been a teacher and I then thought of my own unfinished and unpublished book still on hold.

“And, this area over here?”

I pointed to marble floors, gold planters and ornate furniture.

She straightened her back. “Those are the executive offices and they’re off-limits, too. I am the president’s administrative assistant.”

We chatted a few more minutes.

“I better get back. Nice to meet you.” I lied and backtracked down the corridor to the elevator and headed back down.

“Hi!”

“Hi!”

The elevator repairman spent every day fixing the same one while listening to the radio.

A few weeks later, Rachel got the job and it was my last day.

I said my good-byes to everyone and passed the elevator man. He waved at me as he continued to tinker on his on-going project. For my last trip down, the faint strains of his radio impacted me as the door closed.

“And she’s buying a stairway to heaven…”

Then the thought struck me; there are the enslaved and there are the free.

I hurried quickly and happily to my car.

It was great to be one of the free.

The Back Porch

One night, I was asleep in my bed when suddenly I heard: “Ka-boom!”

Thunder was banging against the windows and lightening lighted up my room. The rain poured down and I was very afraid.

“Aaah!”

 I screamed as I ran for my door and quickly opened it. Then, I hopped from board to board down the long, hallway that curved to the right and led to safety. As I  my stepped carefully to keep from hitting a creaky beam, I suddenly came to the shadow of the scary attic door. It crossed my path like a black hole. I knew a stairway was behind it that winded up to the top floor, filled with long dresses, hatboxes, old antiques, cobwebs and ghosts. It even had a wobbly old trunk full of who-knows-what. Probably goblins.

Anyway, another flash of lightning erased the shadow and I got the courage to leap to the threshold of the door. It opened with a loud creak into the bathroom where the night light glowed brightly through the darkness.

Quickly, I closed the door as the storm continued to rage outside. The ceramic sink was outlined in brightness, but the club-footed tub and toilet I could barely make out in the dark shadows. All our plastic cups were neatly stacked on the sink; color coded to match each family member along with matching toothbrushes. My cup was blue and so was my toothbrush.

Suddenly, the door opened.

“What’s going on in here?” asked my mom upon entering the room. “I heard some noises.”

She wrapped her fluffy robe tighter around her.

“Mom!” I exclaimed. “There’s a monster on the upstairs back porch! It tried to get into our house! I saw a shadow of it in the window as I heard the door knob moving. That’s when I ran right here to the bathroom! Can I sleep with you and Dad the rest of the night?”

“Now, now!” Mom shook her head as she grabbed me and stooped down to look me straight in the eyes.

“You know that there are no monsters on the back porch. It’s the storm and your imagination.”

“But, Mom!” I retorted, “I saw it and it looked real!”

She gave me a hug and then took my hand and led me back to my bedroom down the long curving hallway past the attic door and all the other doors, headed straight to my room.

“Why do I have to have the bedroom with the spooky back porch?” I thought to myself.

When we arrived a flash of lightning showed only my messy bed. I glanced back at the porch window. Nothing was there.

“See?” Mom stated. “No more monsters. They’re gone. Now, go to bed and try to get some sleep.”

She then gave me another tight hug. Then, I hopped into bed and she tucked me in. I held her hands for a long time, finally releasing them and closing my eyes.

Mom had come.

No more monsters.

I went back to sleep…

Rock Bottom

“Mrs Dassinger, can you pray with me?” I asked her that warm autumn day. I parked my car and walked over to the fence to stand in the shade of my live oak tree.

My neighbor was raking the leaves that had blown to the ground from her scrub oaks. There was a forest of them growing in her one acre yard.

She stopped, put down her rake and strolled to where I was standing.

“What’s th’ matta, chile’?” she asked sweetly.

She was in her early 80’s, a true pioneer who had cleared her land herself and lived in a modest single-wide mobile home. She wore a large brimmed hat on her head and had gray hair that lay long and stringy around her face. A tender softness twinkled in her ancient blue eyes and her face looked wrinkled and soft.

“Mrs, Dassinger, I feel so discouraged. I feel like I have hit rock bottom.”

“Rock bottom, chile; tha’s bad!”

“Well, remember when I had first moved to Yulee and lived in the mobile home park?”

“I recall, chile, ya tellin’ me ‘bout how rough it was.”

“Yes, I was so conflicted and miserable. I felt so bad that I had to leave my one-year-old son, Bobby, with a neighbor to become a substitute teacher.”

“Yep, I ‘member tha’ story ‘bout how ya had to hep put food on the table.”

“Then during the summer, I tried babysitting. I put an ad in the local paper.  The problem was, I had to bring my son with me. That worked until he jumped into the deep end of someone’s swimming pool and I had to jump in after him clothing and all.

Later, the second boy, Tommy, came along. When he turned three, I decided to go back to work as a special education teacher. I hardly ever saw either of them. I was gone from early in the morning until 5:00 every day. After dinner, I had to grade papers all evening and do lesson plans. At the end of the year, my contract was never renewed so I lost my job and could never find another one.

When I tried working as a director of a day-care after-school program that fell through when Bobby pulled a fire alarm.”

She chuckled a little. “Tha’ chile is always gittin’ in trouble.”

“Now, I’m working now as a cashier at a grocery store. My hands and legs hurt all the time. My boss is seldom nice and I clash with him at times. A lot of times it seems I work almost every day even though it is only part-time. Now, I only see my kids before they go to school in the morning.

And this time, it feels like the end.  Will I ever see a better tomorrow? Does God even care?”

“Now, now, chile. You know that He does care. Yep, He always cares.”

 “Please help me! I can’t take it any more. My children, my husband and especially my job are all getting to me! I feel so overwhelmed!”

“Chile, tek my hands.”

 She said this extending to me her two wrinkled ones over the chain linked fence. I took them and closed my tear-streaked eyes. I felt her arms shake a little as I felt the sting of my tears.

My mind wandered to the good times; the time when I went to her house and got her recipe to make the bread-and-butter pickles. The time I planted a vegetable garden and made the pickles from my own homegrown cucumbers. And, all the times she gave me brown eggs from her chickens and jars of vegetables from her garden.

“Now, now, God’s gonna tek care of ya. He’s tekin’ care of me all these years. I’m shure He’s gonna tek care of ya and yo’ famblee, too.”

She prayed: “Father, bless this young’un and he’p her. He’p her be strong. He’p her be the wife and mudder she oughta be. I know she can do it. And, everythin’s gonna work out. Everythin’s gonna be jes fine. Yep, according to your Word, we know it; we jes know it…In Jesus Name we pray, Amen.”

“Amen,” I whispered as I opened my eyes and released her hands. I did feel better. Something happened. The weight of my burdens lifted up to the sky. Jesus took them away. I felt so much better but it was hard to explain how it felt in words.

“Do ya feel better now, chile?” she asked sweetly, seeming to read my mind.

“Yes, I do feel better. I don’t understand, but I know God is going to take care of us. He always has….”

“And, remember, He always will. Jes remember that, chile. He always will.”

She waved good-bye and went back to her raking.

A few years later she passed away, but I’ll always remember that day. The day I trusted more in God than I ever had before; the day I realized it wasn’t me trying to make it in life, but it was Him leading me and He would always lead me no matter how dark the path.

Things get better at times; things get worse, but God is always leading.  Even when I lose faith and doubt Him again, still he is right there to see me through. He helps me with all my burdens.

Thanks, Mrs. Dassinger, for the great prayer. I miss you. I hope to see you in eternity some day.

 And, things did get better; they just did.

And I got better, too.

The Rich Uncle

“Hello, Mrs. B!” yelled Terry flashing a semi-toothless grin as he pulled up into my pine needle driveway on his dilapidated bike.




“Well, hello, Terry. It’s good to see you! I’d invite you in, but I’m busy cleaning the pine trees out of my gutters along with the pine needles.” I literally had saplings growing in them. That's what you get for not cleaning out your guttters very often.



I was on a ladder when I said this and my gloved hand was pulling stuff out in bunches.



Terry parked his bike and walked over to where I was working. He was about 4 feet tall and had sandy blonde hair. He and his two brothers, Daniel and Josh lived down the street and we just referred to them as: “the Jernigans”. I fondly called them, “Terry and the Pirates.”



“Mrs. B, I have a question for ya.”



“You do? What is it?” I was not really paying much attention to him.



“Aren’t you movin’ to Orlando soon?”



“Yeah, in a few more days we are. Actually, we’re moving to Oviedo near Orlando.



“Mrs. B!” He said with a crescendo in his voice, “that’s where my rich Uncle lives! And it’s a really big house!”



“Your uncle? I didn’t know you had an uncle.”



“Yeah, and he lives in Winter Springs.”



“But, that’s not where we are going. That’s the next town.”



“Yeah, but it’s near him.”



“Right. So what?”



“Well, when you see him, will you say “hello” to him for me?’



“What? Hello? I don’t know where you uncle lives and I doubt I will meet him, Terry.”



“Yeah, you will. And when you do, tell him Terry says “hello.”



“But, Terry, that’s impossible! I’ll never meet him…Orlando is a big place. Lots of people live there.”



He smiled broadly again. “Yes, you will, Mrs B. Yes, you will…”



He got on his bike and was gone in a flash.



I told my husband Bob about it at the dinner table and he just shook his head and said, “Those Jernigans are always coming up with something goofy. I wouldn’t believe a word he says.”



A few days later we left and said good-bye to the place we had called home for over 13 years. My heart was breaking within me and I wondered if this was the Lord’s will.



Three and a half hours later, we arrived in Oviedo to start our new life in Central Florida. We moved into the house and first thing we did was look through the phone book for a church.



There was one church called Gospel Light Baptist that was located in Winter Park. This was on the other side of Oviedo in the opposite direction of Winter Springs.



We didn’t make it on Sunday because we were worn out from moving, but the very next Wednesday, we decided to go to the little church for their Mid-week Prayer Meeting. We entered the front door to a small auditorium where there was a group there of about 20 people. We sat through the service and the Pastor introduced us as a couple who had just moved to Oviedo from Yulee.



After church, a pleasant looking middle-aged man came up to us. “Glad to have you folks visiting our church. Where did you say you were from?”



“Between Yulee and Fernandina Beach. We lived sort of out in the woods. They called it Nassauville.”



He smiled broadly. “Well, you know, that’s funny.”



“Why?” I said.



“I’m from there, you know. And my three nephews still live there.”



Suddenly, I remembered my encounter with Terry and couldn’t resist the temptation.



“Don’t tell me you are “the rich uncle in Orlando!”



He laughed.



“Well, they call me that but I’m not really that rich! We just have a nice house, but we worked very hard for it and still are working hard. By the way, my name is Stan Walker.”



I just stood there in shock. “You have got to be kidding. You’re the uncle of Terry Jernigan?”



“Yep, I sure am. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”



We both shook his hand, but we couldn’t believe it.



I don’t know what the moral of this story is could be except maybe to take children seriously when they speak.



And believe in Divine Providence….

My Two Sons

 "Tommy, the yard looks terrible! And, you know what your job is! You have to pick up the pine cones!”

“Mom, I hate my job! Why can’t I mow like Bobby gets to do?”

Bobby, my other son, pipes in. “Oh, no, I like my job and you’re not getting it!”

“Okay, Tommy, I will help you pick up the cones. We are racking the pine needles, too.” Our driveway needs to be redone.”

After a little more persuasion, Tommy and I would march outside to clean up our 1 acre yard. I would get out the wheelbarrow and we got to work. The pine cones large and had to be discarded into burn piles in the back of our land. There were so many pine needles; we made a driveway of them straight from the street to our front door.

It all started about 28 years earlier in a single-wide trailer in the woods near Orlando, FL. Bob and I got married and moved into it. It was on my step-father’s land so we only had to pay our mortgage on the mobile home (at 17% interest!). Bobby was born there 10 months after our wedding.

Then, the next year we moved north to Yulee, Florida.. It was odd to see all our possessions, including our house, go down the road hauled by a semi-trailer. In Yulee, we lived in Goodbread Mobile Home Park for two years as Bob worked full time for the Florida Air National Guard or FANG. After a year in the Park, my second son was born, Tommy. I became a substitute teacher and part-time cashier. I liked tutoring and babysitting, too. Of course being a mom to these two was a full-time, though unpaid, job.

Finally, we moved to our own land which consisted of one square acre of land and our little trailer right in the middle of it. There, it was surrounded by large southern pine trees and in front it had a small live oak. In fact, the name of our street was Live Oak Drive. At first, it was a dusty, dirt road, but, later, they paved it.  We lived in that house for 15 years.

Bobby was diagnosed with hyperactivity with attention deficit disorder when he was four and Bob and I tried our best to cope with it. He was on Ritalin most of his childhood. Tommy also was diagnosed with this, but was able to control himself so I did not put him on medication. They played in the dirt, built forts and shot BB guns. When they were too excited, I had them run in circles around the outside of the house until they were tired. I graphed their good behavior on a chart every day. We also brought them to church and I read the Bible, along with other good books, to them every day. And we always had bedtime prayers.

Finally, we moved back to Orlando and from there, Bob retired from FANG and he got another job which brought us to Plant City. And we finally owned our own concrete-block three bedroom, two bath home. By then, they were teenagers.

One day when Bobby was 17 and a senior in high school, he walked into the room and announced: “Mom and Dad, I’m joining the military.”

“What?” I questioned. “I thought you were going to College!”

“No, Mom, I want to follow my dad but not into the Guard. I want to go into the full-time Air Force.”

“Okay, Son,” Said his Dad. “That’s great!”

I said nothing. I was at a loss for words.

“I’ve been talking to a recruiter and I’m ready to take my ASVAB test.”

Well, he had it all planned. And his deployment date was going to be 9-11-2001. I was crying and fretting about that date BEFORE anyone else was. Finally, it was the eve of September 11th. His Dad and I had dropped him off at the hotel. He was going to MEPS (Military Entrance Personnel Station) the next day. I asked him a profoundly premonitional question:

“Son, what would you do if hijackers tried to take over your plane?”

His answer was: “I would fight those hijackers and kill them and take the plane back.”

“Do you know how to fly a plane?”

“Of course I do, mom! Or I would figure it out.”

I gave him a big hug.

So we went home. And the next day, he sat at the Center and watched the tragedy of 9/11. It changed all our lives forever. He came back for a few days to pray with us before he left for good and he was very serious about his mission after that. He has served now for nine years and has been to Korea, Afghanistan and Germany. He wants to get out next year and become a minister and missionary…to the USA! He wants to revive ailing churches. He plans to go to Bible College with a wife and three children in tow.


Tommy’s life's been remarkable, too. He started out after high school working at Wal-Mart and did that for four years. Bobby came home on leave one day and talked him into at least considering the military. Tom looked at all the web sites. He had dropped out of his senior year in high school and only had a GED. So the only branch that could take him was the Army. Still, he was wondering if that’s what he wanted to do.

One morning a few days later I was going to work. I heard Charles Stanley preaching on the radio and he advised you “should pray with your children about God’s will for their lives.” I felt like this was the Lord speaking to me. I went home that evening and prayed with Tom. That night, at Wal-Mart, they called him into the office. They said, “We are giving you the day off to think about what you want to do with your life. If you don’t shape up, you’re out of here.” They were complaining because he called in sick 3 times in the past year.

When he got home in the morning from he worked the nightshift, he had decided what to do. “Mom and Dad,” he said, “I’ve made my decision. I’m joining the Army.” He left about a week later.

He had basic training at Ft Leonard Woods and trained to be a Military Police Officer. He graduated 1st in his class of two hundred with all kinds of awards. He went to Korea for one year, came back to Ft. Stuart, GA for 3 months and then went to Afghanistan for a year. We went to see him and say good-bye. We met all his squad that would be going with him. He left in August, 2009 and we heard about two months later that his squad leader was killed by a roadside bomb. Two of the guys in his squadron were also seriously injured. He was awarded a medal for bravery; he had recovered the body of his leader under heavy enemy fire.

He has finally returned home now. He thanks all of us for our prayers. He had many experiences when he narrowly missed death or injury. He now wants to leave next year to go to college and become a movie director. He likes fantasy and science fiction. Or, as a back-up he could have a career in law enforcement.

My sons have come a long way and I salute them. They have risked their lives for this country. Now, can we as a country, measure up to their dreams? What will their futures be like? The hour looks so dark. We can only hope and keep praying that America proves once again that it trusts in God. For He is our only hope.