Love Thy Neighbor

Love the Lord your God and love your neighbors as yourself.

This is pretty easy to do because I’ve always had great neighbors.

My earliest positive neighbor experiences in life were growing up on Chatham Cir in Buffalo Grove, IL.  

We lived on a half-cul de sac. We spent countless hours playing softball or kick-the-can with all the neighborhood kids. Our parents would sit on the front porch watching us ride our bikes in circles, while they gossiped and chain-smoked. We didn’t just have two parents we had 8-10. Suzie and Ziggy, Janie and John were my parent’s closest Chatham Cir friends. Bowling leagues and BBQ’s and endless events filled our lives as they interacted year around. I watched them celebrate big events like Christmas with neighborhood themed decorations, or birthdays with banners and balloons in front of each others houses. They were young married adults learning how to do suburban life together in the 70's.

Susie Holbach and Debbie Motto were my first neighborhood friends. (I don't have any pictures of us as children, only high schoolers) Debbie was a few years older than me. Because of her, I stole my mom’s cigarettes. I learn how to be cool in 3^rd grade as Debbie taught me to inhale and blow smoke rings. After 3 weeks,     I felt guilty for stealing and innately knew that smoking was stupid and bad for my health.  Never inhaled again. Well…not cigarettes. 

Susie Holbach was my dearest friend on Chatham Cir. Out numbered by the amount of boys in the neighborhood, we’d go off and play ‘house’ or make up dances while singing over and over the ‘5^th Dimension’s: Save The Country (which, OMG that song totally explains where my hippy-thinking comes from!). Not having a sister growing up, Susie was the person I wanted to spend my winter days playing dress up with, and my summer days sunning myself on the pool deck or front lawn. While all the adults were experiencing big issues in their personal lives, we kept on playing. That's what kids do. Life was idealistically simple in our hood. Some days I wish someone would just tell me to go play outside and don't come home until the lamp post comes on. 

When Rich and I got married, we moved to Country Fair Village in Grayslake. It was a nice, safe apartment complex. Our kids would romp on the playground, tennis courts, or splash in the pool.  Within weeks, a sense of community developed with my CFV neighbors.

Pam Stoy was the beautiful single woman who lived across the hall. At 4 years old, Kevin had a crush on her and would tell me when “Pam’s home.” Pam was a domestic goddess. She could cook, sew, and her home always smelled like flowers. She was shy at first, wondering what to do with the crazy young mom and all the kids who were running in and out of the hallways. Her wicked sense of humor made us fast friends. We soon learned that we weren’t so different. We spent time taking long walks (while I’d kick stones). In your 20’s, you’re coming to grips with your own dysfunctions. We were honest about our own flaws and wondered why nobody else could see theirs and admit it too. Laughing at it all kept us close. She was so kind to my son and stepchildren. I thought if I died, Rich should marry Pam because she was much more together than I was and could make meals that had flavor.

Rich Aikman was raising his little girl all by himself. He was a biker dude who liked fixing cars. Kevin came home one day with baby carrots. I asked him where he got them and he pointed me to the muscle guy in the Harley t-shirt. I honestly had judged him out of hand, thinking he was probably an ex-con engaged in something illegal. I decided we needed to be friends if he was going to be feeding my kid carrots. He was harmless—a teddy bear. The kids loved Neighbor Rich, and he was like a big brother to me. I loved Nicole and treated her like a daughter too. There were other neighbors like the Pelars and the Williams who made life wonderful for us the 5 years we lived in Grayslake. 

Moving to Crystal Lake, once again, I got good neighbor Karma.

The day we moved in it was a March snowstorm. Our new neighbor, Randy Jones walked over, introduced himself and then gave us an extra snow shovel. There would be many a snowstorm that Randy snowplowed us out of (usually while Rich was out of town). Randy, whom we affectionately think is a cross between Fred Flintstone, Jim Belushi, and Tim the Tool Man. He's is a mans-man. His wife, Mary Ellen, and their son’s Brad and Andrew make up Randy’s world. He’s a big softie who loves who he loves and hate who he hates. If they are Fred and Wilma, we are Barney and Betty.  Randy has helped us so many times I can’t even count anymore. “Randy, can you help with the broken garage door? Um, Do you know why this tree is dying? Can you help Rich not kill himself moving this piece of furniture?” Since I’m no domestic goddess, I’ve never borrowed any cooking utensils from Mary Ellen. Neither one of us could care less about cooking. Pour us a glass of wine, bring out the hummus and veggies and she and I can sit all night and gab about life. 

The longer we’ve known Randy and Mary Ellen, the more we realize that we are different in some aspects. It turns out that’s not a bad thing. It’s actually American. We have learned to accept each other’s political and religious differences with respect and humor. He plants Romney signs in my front lawn, and I dress his dogs up with Obama scarves. All's fair in love and politics. 

They say fences make great neighbors. For the first few years after we moved in, as neighbors we walked over to each other’s property to chat and shoot the breeze, and often share a meal. Then Randy and Mary Ellen got a new dog. They said they were going to put up a fence. I was sad that there was now going to be a wooden boundary between us. When the fence was put up, Randy made an unspoken gesture of friendship. He put a gate in the middle of the lot line, on our side, so we could still walk over and visit whenever we wanted.

In the summer time we sit around the fire, watch 4^th of July parades together, BBQ, and go listen to local music together. A few years ago we started having Soup Sundays during the long winter months. We keep it simple: a few homemade soups are made (Randy makes the best soup) someone brings bread, and someone brings dessert. There is always wine. Susan (who lives on the other side of Randy) and Steve and Jamela (who live on the other side of us), and Randy, Mary Ellen, and their boys, Brad and Andrew all join us. We break bread, laugh, and catch up.

I know people come and go in our lives. People move away and go on to live in other places. We no longer live in the day and age where people live in the same home for 40 years. I know what I have right now with all my wonderful neighbors will change. I’m still friends and in touch with all of my past neighbors, and trust that the ones I have now will go from being neighbors to life long friends.

Why I Write

I write because it feels like something inside of me wants to come out.

I write because I am seduced by the written word.
I write because I have a part of my personality that craves solitude.
I write to make sense of all the insane things that happen in my life.
I write because it's hard.
I write because it's easy.
I write because I love words.
I write because I'm afraid of them.
I write to fully understand my humanity.
I write to escape it.
I write to fill in the blanks.
I write in circles.
I write backwards.
I write upside down.

I have original thoughts that are brilliant; words flash through my mind like a speeding train, and I write to catch up with them.
I write because I have just enough stupidity that is funny.
I write to discover the beauty in life.
I write to make a difference.

I write so I won't forget when I am old.
I write so I won't forget while I'm young.
I write because it stretches me.
I write because I don't think I can do it and I have to figure out how I can.
I write to find the lost pieces of my soul.
I write to proclaim I have a soul.
I write for the one awesome sentence that pulls it all together.
I write to judge my enemies.
I write to defend my family and my friends.
I write to feel alive.
I write to escape death.
I write to fill in the gaps.
I write because I would love to make people smile.
I write to leave something of myself behind.
I write to overcome my flaws and weaknesses.
I write to embrace them.
I write to lift up my spirit.
I write to find it.
I write to cross rivers of fear.
I write to stand against the pelting wind of doubt.
I write because it's magical.
I write because it's dark.
I write to deal with my demons.
I write to cast them into outer darkness where they belong.
I write when I'm exultant, miserable, pleased, or infuriated.
I write to express my feelings.
I write to encourage others.
I write to go back and remember.
I write because I am bold.
I write to feel small and childlike again.
I write because I have the right.

I write because it's impossible.
I write because I'm impossible.
I write to share a moment that mattered to me.
I write to be swept away.
I write to be pick the flowers of my memory.
I write because I respect other writers so much.
I write because I am a mother, wife, daughter, friend, Christian, teacher, and enemy.
I write because I'm human.
I write because I believe God put it in me.
I write to find out if that is true.
I write because I am small and want a voice.
I write to give others a voice.
I write look over the rose colored glasses.
I write to hide behind them too.
I write to escape being frozen in time by others.
I write to look behind me.
I write to look ahead of me.

I write because I am certifiably unemployable: I get bored, tired of politics and gossip, and unappreciative bosses.
I write because it's both holy and secular.
I write because I have something to say.
I write because no one will listen.
I write because if I don't, I think I will go crazy.
I write because I am crazy.




I write to go around the block one more time.
I write because it feels like poetry inside of me.
I write because I'm getting to old to dance, and it feels just the same.
I write to validate all that was invalidated.
I write to drink from the secret well within.
I write to go to places I've never been and will never go again.
I write because I can.

~Kim Brandt~

Beeeeeeeep..."Please Hang Up The Phone"

‘You can observe a lot by just watching.’ ~ Yogi Berra

537-9149 was my home phone number growing up. Everyone had one or two rotary dial telephones. In the 70’s most homes had one that was an avocado green desktop or wall phone with long curly cords. If you made a mistake dialing a number, your poor tired index finger would have to start all over. I can still hear the sound it made in my head. When the push button phones came out, I thought we were rich.

All I need to know is in my handy dandy smartphone. I swipe, and then I push a flat screen and I’m connected to everything. Zip zap, zadda. However, this handy dandy cell phone has taken over my life. I have my whole world in it: pictures, calendar, contacts, notes, email, and apps. I’ve had agony and ecstasy moments looking though a large baggy purse that a small animal can fit in trying to find my phone. I start to panic and say out loud or in my head (depending on the company I’m in), “OMG or shit shit shit, I’ve lost my phone!” Only to realize I didn’t dive deep enough fishing through my purse. I’ve actually kissed my phone like a lost child, once I’ve realized it was right next to me where I was sitting the whole time.

Back then in the day, I had memorized about a dozen phone numbers. Nowadays, I only know two phone numbers by heart (and one of them is my own).  And back then, I was what you’d call a ‘phone person.’ I enjoyed talking on the phone for hours. I’m not a phone person now. I actually dislike talking on the phone. I’d rather text or email. Hmm, what does that say about me?

I noticed a while back, while hanging out with my brother, his wife, and Rich, that each of us was trying to out-Google or YouTube the other for the answer to ‘Who Let the Dogs Out’. The three of us were all thumbs on our smartphones. No big deal, everyone does it, right?  

If we go out to dinner or are waiting in line, you’ll find Rich or I each checking Facebook to see what’s the latest funny or serious post ‘so and so’ put out. If I’m not on my computer, I’m on my phone. The wintertime is the worst because I’m not distracted by the call of nature and fun opportunities.

I came across an article on Facebook about a 21-day challenge to NOT use a mobile device in the presence of others. Reading the article I recognized that my cellphone habit had taken over my life. Since I’m always up for a challenge, I decided to personally take it. What could it hurt?

Day 1: Waiting for a client to arrive, I’ve often waited out in the open in the area where others are still doing their workouts. Normally, I’d take my cell phone and sit down and preoccupy myself for 10-15 minutes.  I wasn’t watching the people working out; I was just present, not engaged. I’m new to this space so I don’t know them and they don’t know me. My cell phone is a perfectly acceptable place to hide from my insecurity if nobody talks to me. So I forced myself to sit there. Two minutes later, I retreated to my session room to pull out my cell phone. The feeling of wondering what they might be thinking of me was too intense.

Day 2: I was at the Chiropractic office. I caught myself reaching for the phone while in the waiting room. I could be waiting for 30 appropriate minutes. That meant that I’d have to make eye contact with the older man sitting there. I could read a magazine, but it’s the height of flu season and everyone has been touching those magazines. Gross! Go ahead and mock me, I don’t care! I have not gotten sick once this winter. So I look up at the receptionist and make small talk. She engaged me until the phone rang. Then I turned and started talking to the older man. He was very nice and didn’t sneeze on me so we could be friends for 30 minutes.

Day 3: Post-op appointment at Northwest Surgical.  I felt the urge to pull my phone out but caught myself.  In my mind, I patted myself on the back for remembering my 21-day challenge. There were many people in the waiting room but they were filling out forms, so no one to talk to. Plenty of magazines, but we already covered that. Luckily they had a TV on. It was Saturday and I wanted to Google the skin care infomercial that was playing but I didn’t.

Day 4: Met up with some old high school friends at church and lunch. I was tempted to want to take my phone out to Facebook that we were all together, maybe even post a picture, but I didn’t.

Day 5: I was not around any people that day. So I could use my phone freely. However, I was wondering if I was being rude to Fred for pulling out my phone in his presence? I scratched his ears and belly and told him not to tell anyone our little secret.

Day 6: At the spur of the moment, I was able to attend the 5 Broken Cameras movie screening an hour from home. I was thrilled to meet up with old friends and new friends. In a way, for me, it was a historical moment. The Oscar nominated movie was life changing and opened my eyes to the Occupation in Palestine. I would have posted something about the visceral effect the movie had on me, but I kept my phone in my purse. The best part was I got to finally meet one of my new Muslim friends, Angie, who I had been corresponding with on Facebook for months. I wanted to document the moment (like I’d normally do). Luckily, Bentley, my old friend captured the moment for us. Afterwards, Rich and I and Bentley went out for coffee with 7 of his male Palestine friends. We had the best conversation about their personal experiences here in our country and their homeland.  Some comments were funny; others were serious and heart breaking. They let me ask a million questions. Okay, only about 6, but they were bold ones. Grateful for their authenticity, I wanted to document the moment by taking out my camera and asking them all to smile and say ‘Baklava’. Bentley didn’t pull out his camera naturally, nor did Rich, so I had to let the moment go and hope we’d have another opportunity to bridge build again in the future.

Day 7: Back to the Chiropractor, but the Algonquin office. I was starting to get used to how I was feeling internally not having my phone in hand in the presence of others. It wasn’t so bad. I wasn’t about to touch the magazines, but half-tempted to read a few brochures. Luckily, he called my name in 5 minutes.

Day 8: Met a friend for lunch. I was a few minutes early. Again, old habit would have been to avoid stupid feeling by looking at cellphone. Instead, I looked at the people in the restaurant. I played an old people watching game in my head: I wonder what they do for a living? I wonder if they are happy? The yoga teacher in me started to look at the way they were sitting all collapsed at the chest and hunched in their shoulders. I started one imaginary conversation in my head to one dear woman about her posture. That kept me preoccupied until my friend arrived.

Day 10: If I am driving locally around town, I have been leaving my phone at home more and more. The first week I noticed that as soon as I wasn’t around people or I left their company, I was running at break-neck speed to my car to get my phone fix. Like a person who lights up and takes that first puff of their cigarette, I’d exhale as soon as my apps opened up.

Day 12: This was the hardest day of all. I went out to lunch with Rich. He pulled out his phone, like I normally had done in the past too. I was instantly furious. “Really, Dude, how rude can you be?” went though my head. He was getting me up to speed on the latest Facebook social justice debate thread we both participated in earlier. I noticed my breath got shallow. I tried to look around at other people. I even think he may have caught my evil eye but I gave a half smile like I was cool with it. I didn’t want to appear all judgmental and bitchy. I mean, the guy was nice enough to take me out to lunch. Be civil, I told myself. The anger I felt was a clue that my phone addiction was real, and I resented others who also had this addiction. I needed their help and wanted things to go back to way it used to be circa 2000.  John Kabat-Zinn writes, “Awareness requires only that we pay attention and see things as they are. Let everything become your teacher: your body, your attitudes, your mind, your pain, other people, your mistakes, your successes, nature, all your moments.” So since I didn’t have anything to occupy myself, when the waitress came over to ask our drink order, I was so social I bet she was expecting me to invite her to Thanksgiving. Being present when others are not is difficult for me.

Day 14: I was at a large gathering on heart health for women. It was very interesting. There were a few lulls in the event where I wanted to pull out my phone. The lady right next to me pulled out her phone. She was half talking to me, and half texting away like a 14-year old. There was that nasty feeling of judgment in me again. Oh, that is not a nice feeling. I wanted to whip out my phone and be just as unmannerly. But I caught my thoughts. I mean this nice lady may be texting with her kids, or telling her lawyer to go ahead and file the motion against her dead-beat husband who hasn’t been paying child support for six months since they divorced. Yep, this is what I had to do to talk my way through my own nasty thoughts.

Day 18: Our adult son, Kevin, joined us for dinner. As soon as we said grace, he pulled his plate closer with one hand, and his cellphone with his other. I wanted to give an audible sigh of disappointment, but I didn’t. There are some battles that are not worth fighting over; besides, this isn’t a battle between he and I, this is my internal battle. It’s about being present with others and not using my phone as a crutch when I’m ignored, insecure, bored, or even curious. We were not even halfway through dinner, and both Rich and Kevin were showing each other car and comical videos on YouTube. I just sat back and listened to them laugh and smiled. 

Day 19: Met up with our neighbors to have dinner and listen to the band. Everyone had his or her cellphone with them. At one point they were pulling out their phones and sharing old wedding photos stored in their phone. I wanted to pull my smartphone out too to show my wedding photos, but didn’t. I was able to enjoy their company (and pictures) and be fully present.

You know how they say it takes 21-days to break a habit? I realize that I may need a 12-Step Program. I still notice the anxiety when I can’t reach for my phone around others. I still have the stupid feeling when I’m somewhere where I don’t know anyone--which is funny because I don’t seem to have that problem when I fly and can’t have my cellphone on for a couple of hours. I talk to people around me if I’m in the mood. I’ll read a book or I’ll watch a movie, maybe even sleep. I can do without my phone in the presence of others for 2-4 hours without feeling disturbed in my spirit. Why is it so hard to be without my phone while waiting for an appointment? I think I just need to recondition my brain.

I remember the old days when we’d run home to listen to our answering machines. Heck, I remember what it was like before there were answering machines. It was a simple time. Now, in the company of others, we listen to our voicemails as others sit within earshot. We text profusely as if we have a secret that nobody else can see. If asked, “What’s the text?” we become vague or glib. We zone out when the conversation becomes dull; YouTube is far more exciting then spending time together. Instead of enjoying simple moments and tuning into what’s REALLY going on inside of our hearts and minds, me miss out on the transforming information we can learn from being fully present.  

A test to see if you are addicted to your phone: 

 1) At school, at cinema, at conferences your cell phone is:

*Shut off until the end 

*Turned on but you don't use it

*Turned on and you check it

*Slip out to use the bathroom and check it

*Text like Helen Keller with your thumbs under your shirt

2) When you are out with family or friends or in public your phone is:

*Shut off until the end

*Turned on but you don't use it

*Turned on but you check it

*Ask if they know when the next Avengers movie or Downton Abby DVD will be released so you can use your phone without seeming rude. Perfectly acceptable to pull out your phone once they pull out theirs. 

*Play Words With Friends while in the same room with your friend.

3) How many data minutes do you use a month:

*Not that many, wish you could sell your extra minutes

*You are the master of utilizing and surfing random wifi

*You'd sell your first born to pay off your monthly phone bill 

Ode To Post-it Notes

2 Peter 1:15 - Paul writes, "I will make every effort to see after my departure you will aways be able to remember these things."

Remember 'these' things. How did Paul do that? My little mind can't comprehend all the many details in the course of a week, let alone a lifetime. So I write it down.

I worry about being forgetful. It's nagging little worry in the back of my head. Will I forget something important? Mostly, I forget about lesser things like calling someone back or taking the laundry out of the dryer. I've always been a bit forgetful (or spacey).

Next to Google and YouTube, I am forever grateful to Art Fry for inventing the Post-it Notes. This 3-inch canary yellow wonder came out just as I was becoming an adult. Now they come in all sorts of colors and sizes (I am partial to lined Post-it Notes because I have typical sloppy lefty handwriting). I like any color except the dark purple (hard to read pen or pencil).

Post-it Notes are everywhere in my house. If you stay for a visit, Post-it Notes will guide the way to the extra blankets or pop in the pantry. Both Rich and I use Post-it Notes to keep us on our toes or on time. It serves as an in-house communication system. Some notes are generic FYI's: Need stamps, milk, yogurt, water, garbage bags, and hamburger buns. Can you water the garden for me? I took Fred out and fed him (so he doesn't get fed twice). Other notes are imperative: The garage door isn't working AGAIN! Don't forget to pick up my suit today from the dry cleaner-thanks!

If I leave for a vacation or a trip out of town, I am lost without my Post-it Notes (truth be told, there is often a duplicate copy of the same Post-it Note upstairs on my computer). Out of sight, out of mind, right?? I like coming home to a clean house. Yeah, I know, it's a bit neurotic and makes Rich crazy. But what's most important, I won't forget my pillow or my computer! :-D












Like any couple, Rich and I might pass like two ships in the night if he's traveling or I'm out doing my thing. Post-it Notes remind us to check the social calendar. For example: Poker Feb 9th. I have to say Yay or Nay if anything is going on. If not, he will play poker once a month with his brothers.

                                                                                 
                                                                                           Before texting came along, we left all sorts of sweet notes all over the house. I've saved many of them. <3 p="">

I am a Quote Junky. I have them on my mirror in the bathroom, on my desk, even my computer. Each quote inspires me.

With Kev's permission, I was allowed to share this Post-it Note moment: At 9:00pm on New Year's Eve 2013, Madison broke up with Kevin. (If you remember from previous blogs, they moved up here from FL in October and were living with us to save for their future). After she made the announcement, she then left by herself for the night. She came home at 4:30 am to pick up some clothes. However, she drove off with a guy in the car (whom we later found out she would be 'in a relationship' two weeks later according to FB status updates). I was standing in the kitchen with Kevin when he called her on her cell phone and begged her to come home. She had been drinking and he was worried for her safety not knowing where she was going or whom she was with. It was a tense phone call between the two of them. After she told him she wasn't coming home and she didn't have to justify herself now to her 'ex-boyfriend' where she was or who she was with. Kev punched the wall. I gasped as he damaged 80-year old thick plaster walls and antique wall paper that couldn't be replace without a huge cost. Had I not gasped, he probably would have put his entire fist through the wall. The pain in his knuckles wasn't anything compared to the pain in his heart. He looked at me a without a sound and mouthed, 'I'm sorry." The next day, he put this Post-it Note over the deep indentation. For some reason it makes me smile. Walls can be fixed eventually. I know his heart will heal in time too.

Left to myself,  I would either eat leftover pizza or not eat anything at all for breakfast. This is my reminder to make a green drink to start my day.

This Post-it Note was for Kevin (who recently started smoking again). I know it's winter here in Chicago and smoking outside is no fun. Neither is picking up the butts.

We have let our kids know that if we die by carbon monoxide poison it wasn't a planned suicide. We both are guilty of forgetting to turn off the oven AND the burners. What are we going to be like when were old?? Lord have mercy!!

This is where you will find Fred, sitting by the pantry door, everyday at 4:00pm. I thought he would like a Post-it Note too.

This is one of my favorite Post-it Note moments: I was in church in 2004. Kevin was about to leave home soon. He was living the Fast & Furious life. I was concerned about the friends he was hanging out with and what he was doing without his 'mom' around. He was pulling away from me, his faith, and family. I knew I wasn't going to be around to see him on a regular basis. That seem so strange and sad to ponder. It was a huge transition for us both. As I sang during the worship service about grace, I thought about God's grace to me through the years. God never let go of me. Then I felt a deep impression from God. It was so strong. I came home and wrote it down on a Post-it Note to remember what God was telling me in my heart:  'I'll take Care of him.' ~God.

The Gospel According To the NRA

With the recent horrific shootings at the grade school in Newtown, a lot of attention has been focused on the NRA and gun control. There is wide agreement that a tipping point has happened with the extreme kinds of weapons that are used in today’s mass killings. People are calling for a fair conversation on gun regulations. 

Knowing that many Christians support gun ownership, I thought it might be fun to consider how the gospels could be re-worded with a pro-gun twist. Please know that I do this in a good-natured way. I respect those who have a different opinion (even if I disagree).

It’s my personal belief that it’s quite a stretch to understand Jesus teaching as being supportive of guns or aggression in anyway. In fact, it’s pretty clear that He teaches non-retaliation under all circumstances, and demonstrated that in his own life. However, I do agree that the Second Amendment guarantees the Right to Bear Arms for the purpose of protecting ones home, property, or hunting—but my point is you won’t find that right in the teachings of Jesus. If he did the Gospels might look quite different--I call what follows ‘The Gospel According To the NRA’.

****************************************************************************

Jesus was walking along the shore and saw two brothers fishing. Jesus called out to them, “Come, be my disciples, and I will show you how to form your own association to stand up for your constitutional rights (you can even distribute membership cards and put bumper stickers on your donkey that say how much you hate anyone who disagrees with you. You can form lobbies and petition your Roman Senators.” So the brothers traded in their fishing nets for handguns and followed him.

One day Jesus went up on a mountainside, and sat down. His disciples came to him and he began to teach. “Blessed are those that don’t back down for they will inherit the earth. Blessed are the assertive for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are those that use guns (of course only to keep the peace), for they will be called the children of God. Blessed are you when people insult you, persecute you, and falsely say all kinds of evil against you, because of me; and you decide to fight back and not take it anymore. You have heard it was said, ‘an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth’. But I tell you, resist an evil person. If anyone slaps you on the right cheek, slap them back. If they come at you with a gun, make sure you have a bigger gun. You have heard that it was said, ‘Love your neighbor and hate your enemy. But I tell you, arm yourself against your enemy and payback those that persecute you. Your heavenly Father may be perfect, but hey, you’re only human. And don’t forget the Golden Rule, ‘Do unto others before they do unto you!’

One day Jesus sent messengers to a Samaritan village to get things ready for him; but the people there did not welcome him. When his disciples James and John saw this they asked, “Lord, do you want us to call fire down from heaven to destroy them?” Jesus turn to them and said, “Good idea, let’s send in the Drones.”

Jesus said to the crowds, “Of course you should worry about your life, food and shelter. If you don’t take care of yourself, who will defend you? Consider how the wolves travel in packs and fight for their food. It’s survival of the fittest, plane and simple. So seek first your constitutional rights and none of these things will be taken away from you.”

The disciples came to Jesus and asked, “Who then is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?” Jesus called a little child who he placed among them and said, “Don’t be like this child who is ignorant and unsuspecting and trusting. The greatest is the strongest with the biggest weapons, army, and defense budget. Who ever looks out for number one will be first. Because we all know, that nice guys finish last.”

Then Jesus prayed this prayer, “Oh Father, Lord of heaven and earth, thank you for hiding the truth from the tree huggers, the pacifists, the do-gooders, the bleeding hearts, the environmentalist, the politically correct, and the peacemakers, and revealed them to the powerful and well armed hardliners. Yes, Father, it pleased you to give me the corner on the truth on how the world should be run. My Father has given me authority over everything. That gives you my followers ‘The God Card’. If you call yourself Christians you have the same authority to be right whenever you open your mouth. And if that doesn’t work, remember that might, makes right!

Jesus continued, “Come to me all of you who are afraid and burdened by mass murders and I will give you a new way to frame your thinking. I will give you the power of the 2^nd Amendment. Forget my yoke. Take up your own arms and come to a shooting range and I will teach you how to defend yourself. Because humility and gentleness don’t work in the real world; and this is how you will find rest for your fearful souls.”

The night of Jesus arrest an armed mob approached. His disciples said, “Lord, should we strike with our swords?” And Jesus said, “What, you didn’t bring guns? We’re Israelis for crying out loud!” Then Jesus turned to Matthew and commanded, “Quick, behind that bush, there is a bag of semi-automatic weapons fully loaded. Do you think I came unprepared? I’m the Son of God--I knew this was coming! Peter and Andrew, you take that rock. James and John, you pass out extra magazines of ammo. Then Peter shot off the right ear of one of the servants of the high priest. And Jesus said, “Nice shot, Peter! Target practice paid off!” Jesus and the disciples proceeded to wipe out the opposing forces in the name of self-defense. Granted, Jesus never went to the cross that night to save souls. But he proved that guns were the best way to deal with bad guys and save lives. Otherwise, all the good guys would end up dead. The End.

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Can you see how absurd this would be?

Remember I’m not advocating doing away with the 2^nd Amendment. I’m just saying, you won’t find those rights of defending ones self with a gun (or any kind of weapon) in the gospels. It may be the American way, but it’s not Jesus way. I’m just trying to point out in jest that Jesus way and the NRA way are completely opposite. Thank God Jesus showed us that the power of love is greater than the power of force. It should give us pause. 

I’m always surprised (after each mass murder) how often Christians defend taking up (more) arms and their right to amassing large military weapons because it’s their constitutional right. They hunker down and think there is a fear the government is going to take away your guns to protect yourselves. The government is not going to take away your 2nd Amendment. Calm down! Is there a lot of hypocrisy in the government and elsewhere about guns? Yes, but that doesn't make killing people with guns okay. It's just an indication of the madness we've reached as a culture. 

Yes, I know the hundreds and hundreds of arguments for self-defense, protection, etc. 

 I want it duly noted that I'd like to see the downsize the over production of military weapons for gun enthusiasts; kind of like how we reduced nuclear arms the 1980's and may have prevented world war III. I believe the only place for those kinds of weapons is in the hands of trained police officers, our soldiers, or CIA or FBI. There are many like myself who would like to see an open conversation with the NRA take place. I'm sure many parents who lost their children in schools, theaters, and malls would like to see the NRA give an inch or two in this day and age (especially with mental health issues on the rise). It would be nice if the NRA would take some responsibility instead of always defending it's dogma. Can the NRA be 'entirely' right and the rest of the world wrong? Have we gotten bigger than our britches? We may look back in history and wonder if there was more we could have done.

If we call ourselves Christians lets not fool ourselves into thinking that Jesus condones gun rights. His teachings were antithetical to such a mentality. Instead, we should be moving towards Jesus ideals as much as possible if we want to see positive change in this country.

I think of the example of Martin Luther Kind Jr who proved that this can work. Imagine if the Black Panthers had their way in fighting for their civil rights with guns, instead of Martin Luther King with his message of non-violence. The night Martin Luther King Jr was assassinated, Robert Kennedy was speaking to a black audience and tried to calm the crowd by reminding them that he also had a member of his family killed by a white man. And he said, "What we need in the United States is not division; what we need in the Untied States is not hatred; what we need in the Untied States is not violence and lawlessness, but is love, wisdom, and compassion toward one another."

Back in the 60's, all blacks had a legitimate right to stand up for justice, but the ends don't justify the means. And today 2012-2013, we have a right to demand a more safe and civilized world. The truth is we just lack the courage and the moral strength of a Martin Luther King or Ghandi to bring about change. It's just easier to pick up a gun and stand our ground.