“Did you see the way that rabbit jumped when I shot it?” The tall dark haired man elbowed his companion who was shorter with lighter hair.
“Shot him? You shot at him and completely missed. Your arrow is still in the ground the other side of the river.” His rosy cheeks chuckled as he teased his tall friend. “But the look on the little rabbit’s face was priceless!” At least that what the tall one tried to say. His mouth was now full of apple that made his words sound like a mushy, muffed, mess. The short one must of understood. “Well it would have been better if you had shot it. We’d be eating more than just apples.” They stood by an apple tree aside the road. It was more a path than a road. But, nonetheless it was the only route from the river to the nearby village. The two companions, dressed in royal armor, each carried a sword. But, they were hardly warriors; they were new recruits. If they were anymore wet behind he ears they’d be swimming. Their inexperience did not deter their confidence though. It was inflamed by the crest on their chest and the sword at their side. Owning a weapon was illegal in the kingdom. Only the standing army and the royal guard were allowed to carry swords. Carrying a sword for the royal guard was a great honor for most. A chance for mischief for some. “Hey, look at that.” The tall one said. Walking the path towards them was a man. He had grayed hair, a long mustache that hung below his chin in two skinny streams, gray clothing that barley fit his small frame. He carried two buckets of water. Each one hung at the ends of a long staff, balanced across the small old man. He was walking briskly form the river. “I think I am a little thirsty.” The tall one said in a mischievous grin. His companion, no stranger to mischief himself smiled. “Me too!” As the man approached they stopped him. “Give me drink old man.” The elder slowly lowered his buckets squatting to the ground. He slipped the staff from the handles and held it like a walking stick. He leaned heavily as if tired from his journey. “Be my guest my lords.” One dipped both hands in a bucket cupping the water to his mouth caring not for the excess that spilled over. The other was face first in the other bucket lapping like a dog. The elder calmly waited in silence. After they had drunk their fill they still were not satisfied. They hungered for mischief and not for drink. “Have you any food old man?” the tall one demanded. “How about some money?” The short light haired man chuckled. “I have no food. I have no money. Just my staff, my buckets, and my water.” “Your water!” the tall one retorted. “This is not your water. These lands belong to the king along with the water of the river.” The tall one kicked over the bucket of water at his feet spilling the water over the dry path they stood. “Yeah!” the short one exclaimed excitedly. He too kicked over the bucket near him. The old man did not flinch. He did not even respond. “What do you say now old man?” “I misspoke. But not because you spoke rightly. For we both misspoke. The waters are not mine. Nor are they the king’s. The land belongs to the One who made it, and for those He made it for.” “Misspoke? MISSPOKE!” The tall one drew his sword in anger. But, as the point left the sheath it went flying away from the tall one. The elder’s staff hit the hilt jarring it loose from the tall one’s hand. Then as if in one continuous motion from the hilt of the sword the elder’s staff swept the tall one off his feet. The short one fumbled for his sword only to find the butt of the elder’s staff between his eyes. The blow forced him to the ground. “I know your mothers taught you to respect your elders.” The old man said. “Perhaps your father should have taught you not to trust in weapons. They are only tools, like my staff.” The old man righted the buckets and slipped the staff back into the handles. From a squat he lifted the staff and buckets balanced on his back. He quickly turned around and headed back to the river. Dazed, embarrassed, the two royal guards laid there for a few minutes. “We shouldn't mess with uncle Wang again,” the short one said. “Tell no one of this!” the tall one pleaded. “Physical objects do not bear moral freight. Understand that emotional attachment to the concept of ‘weapons’ is a weak limitation of spirit.” ~ Ivan Throne Lesson inspired by The Nine Laws written by Ivan Throne. Buy it, read it, live it.
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Lector over at Men of the West asks the question, "What Is Wrong With America?"
In their long evil march to destroy America, the Progresses started by attacking the home. They knew the keystone of any civilization or culture is the nuclear family… and they put their sights right on the heart of the American family. They started by deformalizing home life.... The progressive waged their war against our homes and our family life. They chipped away at the standards of behavior within the walls of our very home. Who dresses for dinner anymore? But in 1890, even a poor family would never have tolerated a child showing up to the dinner table with uncombed hair, wearing pajamas. These standards… these traditions… are not trivial. They are not just stuffy rules that some authoritarian dreamt up to be a jerk. They are civilizational and cultural instinct. They are the practices that form and sustain, a culture and civilization. So as they have been torn down, so has the civilization and culture. The same can be said of our churches. After the Reformation many protestants cast of the many forms of traditions and rituals the church practiced at the time. The argued they were no means of grace and that faith alone can save. I believe that faith alone can save. But, what the protestants miss out on is a rich heritage of tradition that actually taught one about the faith. The practice of confirmation, baptism, Eucharist, and others, were meant to teach us something about our faith. They were also a means of identification for the believer. They belonged to the body of Christ and confirmed it through actual, physical, baptism. Many of these have been cast aside so as to be more "spirit led" as a posed to "the traditions of men." But look at our churches now. There are too many traditions and denominations all worshiping however they want. There is no unity, no worshiping together, no fellowship one with another. We remain a people divided. This is not critique of the Reformation. I believe the Reformation was needed. I believe now the church needs another reformation to get back to the basics - Jesus Christ. We need to come together in unity. Because this dark world has its sights upon our faith, our people, and our culture. A boy of nineteen is lost.
The desert is harsh and unrelenting. The wind stings the boy’s skin. Sand grates his feet. His face is tired of squinting due to the brightness of the sun. At night he shivers alone. His parched lips frustrates his sleep. Yelps, growls, and rustling of dead brush, keeps him anxious. He has no one to help him, but, wallows in his thoughts, “The world is against me! I deserve more than this” He is sure his mere existence confounds the ego of nature. Day after day, night after night, the boy moves over the sand, wandering and wondering. One day, what number the boy knows not, he woke with the sun especially hot. The wind had ceased to blow and the relentless sting against his skin subsided. What comfort the boy took from the lack of wind was quickly cast aside by the heat of the sun. In his vainglory the boy screams at the wind, “Why? Why have you abandoned me? Why have you left me alone?” The wind does not hear. The wind does not know. A boy of nineteen is lost. He wanders and wonders why the wind has left him alone. “You must accept that the universe does not notice your pain, your angst, your frustration or your screams. Operate within the frame of neutrality.” ~ Ivan Throne Lesson inspired by The Nine Laws written by Ivan Throne. Buy it, read it, live it. |
Drew the GenuineChristian | Husband | Father | Traditional | #DarkTriadMan in training | https://gab.ai/Drew01 ArchivesCategories |