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Watcher or Participant?

  • Posted on July 3, 2012 at 8:43 am

How do you concentrate?  Does it help to listen to music?

If so, you’re not alone.  I’m a music-lover also.  In the car I have the radio on classical music, sometimes country, sometimes rock, and sometimes contemporary Christian music.  I love variety in my music, but rarely listen to the latest, greatest artists who are currently playing.

Neither do I listen to music at home, especially when I’m writing.  I find it too distracting.  Isn’t that odd?

I think the reason is, music tells me stories, and I get sidetracked from the story I’m currently trying to tell.

Another reason is that I also like to play the piano, or guitar, or cello, or practice a piece that I’m going to sing for church.  Music is something I do.  I am not a spectator.  I am an active participant.

It’s kind of like this:  Some watch football, some play the game.  Some people watch dancers, some dance the dance.  Some people watch TV, some people join amateur theater and perform  for audiences themselves.

I think it’s kind of like politics too.  Some watch news, or read articles, get all upset, rant and rave, and say, “What do they think they’re doing?”

And others find ways to address the issues themselves.

Don’t let life pass you by.  You have a stake in this world.  God placed you here in this place and in this time on purpose.  Make your life count for something, whether it be music or politics.  Be accountable.  Be active.  Participate.

OK.  Now I’m done preaching to you, and would like to ask what it is that you find to participate in?  Do you work with wood?  Do you fix cars?  Do you share recipes?  Do you worship with others?  Do you open your home to foster kids?  Do you babysit the elderly so their caregivers can take a break?

The opportunities for participation in this world are endless. Let’s make our lives visible.  Let’s live out loud.

 

 

Our Response to Our Enemies

  • Posted on October 27, 2011 at 1:07 pm

I have been editing my great-grandfather’s memoirs.  He was born in Cologne, Germany in 1819.  When he was about twenty years old, he left home for Algeria, which was being held by the French during that time.

Not too long after he arrived, he was captured by militant Muslims who held him captive for about three years.  As I type each horror story he revealed during his capture, I find myself getting angry at they as they laugh while they torture, as they pray after they murder, and realize that they haven’t changed in hundreds of years.

                       ”Barbary Pirates” by John Bentham-Dinsdale     covertress.blogspot.com

This country’s first war after we became a nation was against them, specifically the Barbary Pirates.  They would raid American ships and torture and hold for ransom the crew.  If we did not pay huge tributes to them, they also killed whomever they captured.   You’ve heard them mentioned in the Marine Hymn:  “From the halls of Montezuma to the shores of Tripoli…”  Tripoli is, was then also, the home of those Muslim pirates.

Every time I hear our fearless leader praise these barbarians, I get angry all over again.  He is painting a false picture of who these people really are.  They want to kill us!  First they plan to get rid of Israel (the ones they call the little Satan), and then they plan to kill us (the ones they call the big Satan).  Doesn’t he get it?  Doesn’t he care?  How can he lie like that and keep a straight face?  They are our ENEMIES!

Then I catch myself.  We, as Christians, are required to pray for our enemies.  God made them with the same care and love that he made each one of us, but they have been warped by a religion of hatred and vengeance.  We must pray for the love of their Creator to shine through the darkness of their religion.

So I wrote this addendum to my great-grandfather’s book.

“We live during a time when militant Muslim atrocities are committed daily.

Christians are being persecuted by them in all parts of the world.

Although my family and I live in the United States, where, until now, we have been immune to various upheavals, the persecution they desire is coming here.  Should I be like my great-grandfather and call them cannibals because I cannot think of anything worse to call them?  Or, should I, instead, listen to my Lord who commands me to love my enemies and pray for those who persecute me?

It hurts to read this, what they did to my great-grandfather, and know who is responsible.  To read how he suffered, and how they laughed at him, and know that the same kind of people would treat me and mine the same way makes me angry.

A part of me wants to hurt them in return.

Instead I choose love.

Although Muslim radicals have not changed for centuries, and their evil and hatred is strong, the love of my Lord is stronger.

He gives them rain, no matter how much they hate.  He allows their farms and ranches to produce, just like he does ours.  He created them in love, and would prefer to love them, just like he loves me.

Instead of wanting revenge, which is the basis of their religion, I pray that they come to know my Lord, who still loves them, and would prefer to choose a better outcome for them, for on their present course they will receive hell, not the paradise they expect.

Lord, rescue them from Satan’s hands.  Amen.”

Patricia Renard Scholes

 

Ute, the Soft-Spoken Hero

  • Posted on October 7, 2011 at 5:37 am

On Sunday, October 9, in Grand Junction, Colorado, Western
Colorado Writers’
Forum held a writers’ conference, parts of which were open to the public.  Patricia Scholes presented “Ute, the Soft-Spoken Hero,” a story about a local Nisei (second generation Japanese American) who served in WWII.

Yutao Mine, who likes to be called Ute, was born in Ogden, Utah.  When he was only a few months old, his parents moved to Fruita where he grew up on their farm.  It was there he met Mypoka, who became the love of his life.  Together they had two daughters, Nancy, who still lives in this valley, and Jeanne who now resides in Nevada.

After his girls finished school, Ute and his wife moved to California.  They lived there 20 years before Mypoka became very ill.  They returned to Colorado where she soon died.

He remains a widower.

Now, that’s the external part of Ute, which isn’t so different from hundreds of other families living here.  But Ute is not a common man.  He is a hero.
You would not expect to see a hero if you looked at him.  He is no bear of a man, larger than life and twice as strong.  He is a small-statured Japanese American.

Ute served his country in the 442nd Regimental Combat Team during World War 2, which became the most decorated unit in United States history.  He was even a German prisoner of war.

To understand Ute, you need to know the times.  The United States was at war with Japan, and many of those with Asian features became suddenly suspect.  Families were torn from their homes and placed in internment camps, just because of their national origin.

But Ute had never known Japan.  He was born here.  He was as American as the boy next door.  He had no feelings for Japan, but strong feelings for the United States.  He wanted, along with all those who served during that time, to defend his country from those who would take away his precious freedom.

Mine’s regiment served in Europe because it was felt at the time that it  couldn’t be right for Japanese American soldiers to serve against the Japanese.  Did they ask the same of German Americans?  I have no idea.

Ute didn’t care.  He and 18,000 others like him served in WWII in the European theater.  His unit earned a total of 18,143 total decorations, 20 of them being Congressional Medal of Honors.

Yes, Ute is a hero.

He is a Nisei, which means a second-generation American.  Only a handful of Nisei remain alive nationwide.  We are fortunate to have one of them living among us.  To meet Ute is to meet a man of depth and character, a man of humor and wisdom, and a true patriot.  His patience and gentleness of spirit sets him apart, and reveals him to be a hero, even today.