Jun 192011
 

My son was ruthlessly attacked by vicious angry beasts this weekend.  He was just trying to do a good deed.  It made them angry, so they swarmed from the bowels of the earth and attacked.

At first Sam didn’t understand what was happening.  As he was mowing the grass, the pain hit him from out of nowhere and shot up with increasing intensity.  He yelled and writhed as he was hit over and over again.  He didn’t know what to do or how to stop the merciless, agonizing attack.

I heard his cries, looked and saw what was happening.  As the attack continued, I yelled “Run Sam!  Run!”  He was too tortured to hear.  I finally ran to him, guiding him to the safety of the garage.  Even there, one of the tenacious monsters still continued to cling to the sock around his ankle, inflicting wound upon wound.  He yanked off his shoes and socks then ran in the house, suffering in pain.

It made me so angry.  How dare these evil monsters attack my son with such ruthlessness.  I grabbed a can of wasp spray, dashed out the door, and emptied its contents on the yellow jacket nest.  It knocked down some, but still more swarmed around the nest.  I went for a second can, gave them another dose, then turned attention to Sam.  He had so many stings we had to take to the emergency room.

There are still some yellow jackets in that nest, but their time is very limited.  I will not rest until they are all gone forever.  They will suffer my wrath for hurting my child.  Tonight, while they are all in the nest, I am going to pour gasoline in their hole.  Then, just to finish the job for sure, I’m going to throw in a lighted match. 

Today is Father’s day.  On this day I think about what it means to be a father.   And as I plan my vengeance on those evil monsters that attacked my son, I realize my wrath burns so hotly because of the love I have for my child.  I also think about God, the perfect father, who has adopted as His children those who will accept Him.  Although I can’t pretend to understand Him, I do feel like I am beginning to have an inkling of understanding about “the wrath of God.”  It’s funny, but somehow now, it feels like love.

Oct 112009
 

My wife Tammy has been gone for several days.  In her absence, Marshall and I are doing OK.  We have cooked and cleaned a little, worked a little, and goofed off a litt . . . er . . . a lot. 

Typically, while she is gone, there are certain things that just don’t get done.  At least not until the day before her return.  The laundry, the floors, the dishes, kitchen counter, and sink.  We don’t exactly let them get horrible, but they are not quite up to the standards of a good housekeeper.   And the bed?  Why make the bed when you are just going to get right back in it when evening rolls around.  The bed almost never gets made until the morning of her arrival.  Almost, except for today. Continue reading »