What is a Free Society? Part 1: Liberty or Slavery?

While I was typing this title, I accidentally typed “fee” instead of “free the first time. It got me thinking as I rested on the Memorial Day weekend.

I thought: are we really free according to our Constitution or have we drifted from this ideal? What’s free about us anymore? It seems like the government runs everything or influences everything we do. For example, I read on the Drudge report that 49% of Americans are on some sort of government assistance. That’s a lot of people.

In our own personal lives, both of us have government jobs – my husband Bob and me. Both of us had to pay lots of taxes when we owned our own business. We continue to pay property taxes, sales taxes, income taxes, social security taxes and licensing taxes now. Our car must be licensed, for example, through the tag and we must pay for a driver’s license too. The government even determines who should be married and who shouldn’t by issuing you a marriage license.

Now, they want to run our lives through health care programs for everyone instead of only through Medicare and Medicaid which are a bureaucratic maze of government regulations I’m sure. We use the VA so we know what that’s like.   And if you have been reading my blog recently, you know how rough it is for students in our government-funded schools to get a good education …

            Is this what our Founders intended?

I’ve read a book named: “Liberty Defined: 50 Essential Freedoms.” I’m not going to tell you who the author is until the end of this blog but I was very impressed by this man’s knowledge of our history and culture. I was also impressed by his understanding of basic human nature.

            This is what he said in five of ten principles of a free society. I will cover the rest of them next time.

 Here it goes: “Rights belong to individuals, not groups; they derive from our nature and can neither be granted nor taken away by the government. All peaceful, voluntary economic and social associations are permitted; consent is the basis of the social and economic order. Justly acquired property is privately owned by individuals and ownership cannot be arbitrarily voided by governments. Government may not redistribute private wealth or grant special privileges to any individual or group. Individuals are responsible for their own actions; government cannot and should not protect us from ourselves.”

            The parts here that are italicized are done that way because I did it. I want to emphasize the fact that everyone wants to blame someone else any more instead of taking responsibility for their own actions.

Our deficit is getting bigger, for example, every day in spite of all the taxes the average citizen pays. No one wants to take responsibility for getting rid of this huge amount. We want to keep redistributing the wealth. Our government wants to keep taking money from the rich and giving it to the poor. I propose that if we really wanted to, we could dispose of the debt in a very short period of time.. I propose we could have bake sales, sell t-shirts and do other fun activities like spaghetti dinners and fund-raisers to pay off the deficit. These would be one-time, voluntary actions to begin to reverse it. However, I don’t know if we care enough. Have we become such slaves and thralls of the State that we have not an ounce of motivation left in our bloodstream? Do we really want liberty or do we want more slavery? I think for the last 80 years this country has drifted more towards slavery and less towards liberty. Remember, a rut is similar to a grave and I wonder which one we are in. I want your thoughts on this now. What do you think? Do you feel free or trapped and almost overwhelmed by all of it?

Of course, as a Christian, I know God is in control.. Do we act passively or actively in our society? Do we let the ship of state sink or do we look for a real solution?

And by the way, my author is….to be continued next week….

           

That Sinking Feeling: Part 1: Dry Wells

             It was a peaceful enough winter morning. The frost lay thick on the grass as I headed out the door to my substitute teacher assignment at Lincoln Elementary. I passed some strawberry fields and watched the sprinklers circling as they sprayed the fields with water to keep the crop from perishing in the cold.

            I had kindergarten today and knew it would be a busy one. At noon, I was sitting in the faculty lounge resting a bit when I overheard a teacher at the next table.

            “My well! It just ran dry! It’s not a good sign.”

            “Why is it a bad sign?” Asked the teacher sitting next to her.

            “Because…the ground may not be able to take it.  All the ground water is being pumped out into the fields. Why do you think we have so many lakes here?”

            They both laughed at this thought as I sat puzzled by her distressed remarks.

            “Well, I don’t have a well.” I thought to myself. “I have city water and I am far from a strawberry field. It doesn’t affect me.” Then, I started eating my lunch and didn’t hear the rest of the conversation.

            A few days later I saw the flashing lights of a fire truck one street over in my neighborhood and yellow crime tape going up. But it was not because an illegal act had taken place. A huge hole had swallowed my neighbor’s front yard. However, the house was miraculously still standing. A few houses down, in direct alignment with ours, another one was completely cracked up and looked like a jumble of concrete blocks. It was warped so badly that it was taken apart and hauled away. Sinkhole activity had caused all this damage.

            I didn’t think about it much anymore until a few months later I heard a knock at my front door. It was a man named Steve Gliesen. He told us they were checking for more possible sinkhole activity in the neighborhood and wanted to test to see if there were any problems with our house. We both agreed they could do it.

            Two and one half years later we are still waiting. We have the results. There's definitely a sinkhole problem under our property. But no pay-out has happened yet.

             We agreed about three years ago that we were seriously planning to go to Germany and join our son Bobby, his wife, Maria and our four grandchildren. We had been preparing for this when the sinkhole crisis hit. We have had four tests. Three have come back positive.
              Meanwhile, our house is cracking up. Lines are appearing every where. Zigzag patterns pop up in the concrete walls and doors won't latch. We live in peril of it collapsing every day. And yet, still no response from our insurance company. We have now hired a lawyer. Still, there’s been a delay as the negotiations drag on.

            Yes, we could be settling out of court on this any day. Yes, we still plan on moving to Germany when it goes through. Yes, we are both being laid off for the summer so we must get the money soon…But we’re still waiting. It’s all in God’s hands. His timing is absolutely perfect. He knows what He’s doing with us.

            And we know that all things work together for the good of them that love the Lord, to them that are called according to his purpose. Romans 8:28.

            Hopefully, it will be soon…

The Best Birthday Ever

I burst into song:

“Are you going to San Francisco? Be sure to wear some flowers in your hair…”

            The kids looked and giggled. They were surprised I knew all the words to the old song. When I finished I thought about how quickly everything had changed over the years and how fast you grow old.

            I looked over to Mr. G.’s I Pod. It was the latest technology playing that song in his American History class that I was co-teaching with him. The special education teacher was gone and I was subbing in his place until the end of the year.

            The bell rang; I strolled to homeroom in the gleaming sunshine in a relatively good mood. It was going to be an easy day, I thought. I was about to take attendance in homeroom and humming when my phone rang. It was Bob.

            “I don’t feel good!” he gasped. “I have chest pains! I think I’m having a heart attack! Can you get home soon as you can?” I was a little reluctant to leave as my mood came crashing down to earth. “I’ll call you right back!” I responded as I quickly took attendance. I hung up and told the kids.

            “Should I go home? My husband’s having a heart attack!”

            “Call the ambulance, Miss!” One of them said and soon all of the others chimed in.

            As the bell rung for my planning period, I called him back.

            “The kids just told me you should call an ambulance.”

            “Okay, I’ll do it!” He yelled and hung up.

            I ran out the door and right into Mrs. Bergen dragging her load of books down the open hallway.

            “What’s the matter?” she asked when she saw the expression on my face.

            “Should I go home? I think my husband’s having a heart attack?”

            “Yes, of course! Go home! Someone else will cover your afternoon classes. Tell Mrs. Dunley and she’ll take care of it!”

            I mumbled okay and quickly called back Bob.

            “Did you call an ambulance yet?”

            “Yeah, I did. Are you coming home?”

            “Yes, I am leaving right now!”

            I ran down the hall and almost into Mrs. Gold, the aide, and told her what was going on. Fortunately, I only needed someone to cover 5^th,  6^th and 7^th periods. She agreed to do it for me. I went by Mrs. Dunley’s room, too and told her and she said it was no problem.

            I signed out at the front desk knowing I wouldn’t be paid for the rest of the day and wrote “family emergency” next to my name.  My knight-in-rusty-armor was in trouble!

            When I got home, the paramedics were there checking him out. He looked ashen and afraid. His blood pressure was elevated. However, his EKG was normal so that meant I could drive him to the hospital and the ambulance wouldn’t have to take him.

            I waited a long time in the ER but they took him right away. They ran a lot of tests. Finally, the doctor came in to the room and looked at us. “We recommend, Mr. Bentz, that you stay overnight to be observed just in case anything happens again.”

            We looked at each other and Bob told him he didn’t want to do it.

            “Doctor, I just want to go home and sleep in my own bed.”

The doctor left and the nurse came in and convinced him he had to stay and get more tests just in case.

            “Don’t you want to go home?” I asked.

             “Yes, but I got to do this. I could die…”

            “And you’d be with Jesus…”

            “Yeah, but I will miss the grandchildren.”

            “Oh, yes, of course, the grandchildren.” The next generation.

            I took his hand. “I understand, hon. We’ve made it 30 years. I guess we can make it 30 years more.”

            “Yes, exactly.”

            So he stayed overnight in a room with three other men all with various health problems. One was a Puerto Rican with chest pains, one was an African American and one was a big guy with only half a leg who was diabetic.  The Puerto Rican looked a little lonely. He told me his wife was far away in PR and he missed her. I gave him a “Smile, Jesus Loves You” tract and he lit up with joy. “I am a Christian already, but, thank you, I needed this. I’m putting it right here.” And he stuck it next to his glass of water.

            “How ya doin’, hon?” I asked Bob when I saw him.

            “Fine. But what a way to spend my birthday.”

            “Did they find anything wrong?”

            “No, I’m fine. I just want to go home.”

            They gave him a steak dinner and a birthday card. He had a clean bill of health. 

            God’s goodness reaches all of us even when we don’t deserve it. So this day, his birthday, was the best birthday ever. It made us both appreciate life even more.

           “Summertime will be a love-in there…”

           “Redeeming the time because the days are evil. "(Ephesians 5:17)

           

A Story Every Hour: Part 5: Seventh Period – Perfect Work

Now comes the climax of every day; the epitome of chaos, cheesiness and disgust. Yes, its seventh period. The hour of power. The hour of turmoil. The hour of fear.

Actually, it’s just a bunch of misfits that all managed to end up in the same room at the same time. A horrific cacophony of adolescent goofiness that prevented any learning from taking place. I tried to stand and deliver, but I only flopped every time.

Nick, Ed and Donald were three of the clowns always trying to make hay at my expense by saying a cutsy remark. Nick was in league with Garrett from my other class. Lots of muscles but a brain that couldn’t even read. I gave up trying to get him to read our assigned English book. He read so slow it would take 15 minutes to read one page.

Ed was just a goof-off along with Donald both competing for comic effect. Not to mention objects thrown at will any time I wasn’t staring at them that flooded the floor with trash.

Need I go on? Well, Alberto was late 30 minutes every day until he was threatened with suspension. Then, he ended up being one of the first ones there every day.

Then, there was the worse one: Lucas. Every time he arrived it spelled trouble which was whenever he felt like coming. He had clear blue eyes that seemed to penetrate to your very soul. He would challenge everything I said every time I said it. And the class would scream or bang their desks when they liked what he said. Or boo me.

 If I moved a girl, he said I was sexist. If I moved a Mexican, he said I was a racist or even if I pointed my finger at one. If I read something from our book “Their Eyes Were Watching God” he didn’t like, he was the first one to object. Then the class would follow him with a show of noisy support.

 One day, they was so much yelling and banging that Mrs. Bell from next door ran in.

 “Is anything wrong, Mrs. Bentz?”

 Before I could answer back, I heard high pitched screams and loud banging coming from her room.

“Oops! Better get back…”

It was her kids responding to mine.

 Finally, one day one of the girls couldn’t take it anymore. Andrea screamed “Shut the f_ up!” as loud as she could and fled out of the room. She sat in the hallway dejected. I prayed a quick prayer that the Lord would help me. Then I got an idea.

“Andrea, go get Mrs. Brockman from the Teacher’s Planning Area right now!” I yelled.

She ran and got her and they both entered the room.

“Who’s being bad this time?” Mrs. Brockman asked me.

“Lucas.” I replied without hesitation.

“That’s it?”

I thought about it for a few minutes as I mumbled a few other names under my breath. They looked at me with pleading eyes. Finally, I responded louder so she could hear.

“Yes, that’s it. Only Lucas.”

“All right, buddy, come with me!” And Mrs. Brockman marched him out of the room. He never came back.

It was much quieter from that point on.

The last day I would be with them as their sub, they unraveled a plastic Hawaiian lei and let it trail out the window. I could just wonder what they thought on I-4 as the cars whizzed by. Needless to say, I was happy it was almost over.

Mrs. Powers, they’re all yours now. Time for you to have fun…

The Lord sure taught me patience with them.. I could have lost my temper so many times but I didn’t. Now, we’re all friends and I say “hi” to them every day in the hallways.

 It’s nice to be their former teacher…

Let patience have its perfect work that ye may be perfect and entire, lacking nothing. (James 1:4)