God's Plan and the Secret Service

A father writes to his daughters: "Girls, there is a plan for every life. Unfortunately, God doesn't email it to you when you are born."

Megan and Jenna,

Girls, there is a plan for every life. Unfortunately, God doesn't email it to you when you are born. In fact, that's part of the plan too. Presbyterians believe in predestination. That, however, doesn't mean a person gets to do whatever they want in life because they are ‘predestined' to go to heaven or hell. Remember, they don't know where they are predestined to go. God knows everything they are going to eventually do in their lives. And, based on that information, a person's destiny is chosen. Whether you believe that or not isn't really important. Just keep it in the back of your heads that God has a plan for you. And, as this story will tell, you can't exactly rewrite the plan. Unless, of course, rewriting the plan was in the plan.

In my case, rewriting the plan was in the plan. Because, I had one plan, but it wasn't God's plan. And it is a good thing my plan didn't work out because I probably would never have been your father. This was many years ago. Your mother and I had been dating a while. Long enough to be serious but not long enough to be sure we were going to get married. I had a plan for a career change. A big career change. I was planning on shifting from pharmaceutical rep to special agent. FBI, Secret Service, U.S. Marshals, whatever. Sounds crazy doesn't it? I have always been unable to shake an inner drive to serve. And serve I was going to do. It wasn't a pipe dream either. I ended up interviewing with the Secret Service for over 14 months. These interview processes take quite a long time, as you can see. I had gone through the application review, the 4 hour written testing, the initial interview, the medical exam, the panel interview, and two polygraphs of 4 hours and 2 hours. They cut people out of every step along the way to thin down the pack. But I was still there. In fact, with the exception of the background check, there really wasn't any more of the interview process left. They would do a background check, officially offer me a position, and then send me off to school for six months. A posting in some U.S. city would follow. Away from your mother. Far away. Even though we would have wanted to stay together, it wouldn't have been very likely that we would have been able to work out a long distance relationship.

It was at this point in the interview process that things got strange. The Secret Service made one critical error. Even though I had instructed them not to, they called my employer before they were finished with all parts of the interview process. You might say that calling my employer was "a bad thing". At that time I worked for a pharmaceutical company that frowned heavily on anyone interviewing for a job outside of the company. They frowned on it so much that I knew if my company ever found out I was interviewing, they would fire me. And fire me they did. You have to understand that to the drug company, a rep is only good if they are 100% motivated to do the job. And, how can they consider a person 100% motivated to sell prescription drugs if that person would prefer to carry a badge? The Secret Service got quite upset with this whole set of events. After all, they had basically caused me to loose my job, and people file lawsuits over things like that. It panicked them and they wanted to back out of the whole situation. Distance themselves from it. So, even though all the agents that had been involved in interviewing me had given me their stamp of approval, I was told that Washington would not approve my hiring.

You see God never intended me to be a Secret Service agent. He certainly had a plan of why he wanted me to go down the path of interviewing, but he never intended for me to actually have my own credentials, a badge, a gun, a set of handcuffs, a Secret Service lapel pin, some sunglasses, and one of those little earpieces. And, I would never be heard saying, "Er, ah, excuse me sir, but the United States government actually decided way back in Lincoln's day that we didn't really appreciate that whole 'counterfeit currency thing', so go ahead and interlace your fingers together on top of your head, otherwise, I might have to thump you on the noggin." Can you picture it? Your old man dressed in black and packin' heat? No one else can imagine it either. Except for myself and all those agents in the Secret Service who interviewed me, that is.

The mistake I made wasn't in pursuing my dreams; instead the mistake was that I didn't once ask God for guidance. I didn't ask him to show me his plan. I didn't pray to him about my aspirations. I just went ahead with my own plan. And in this case, I am thankful to him for not opening that final door leading into the White House. Because, after all, I wouldn't be your father right now, and you wouldn't be sitting there reading these annoying letters. For you both to be happy in your lives you'll need to find what moves you emotionally, and then pursue it to the ends of the earth. But, before you begin looking, be sure you ask God to help guide you to the plan he has already laid out.

Why We are at War

If you hate the war, you have to read this. A letter written by a father who explains to his son exactly why the U.S. is at war with Iraq. "When good men stand by and let evil happen is the greatest EVIL of all." Megan and Jenna,

I did not write the letter that follows. An unknown author sent it to me, but it points out exactly how I feel about why we are at war in Iraq. I really hate war in general but I more fervently believe that where atrocities occur, someone must act to stop those perpetrating them.

Some of you may not approve of the Iraqi war, but it's the BEST explanation of the war that I've ever read, and I feel I must pass it on. This is the BEST explanation of WHY we are AMERICA, the Home of the Brave and the Land of the FREE! The other day, my nine year old son wanted to know why we were at war. My husband looked at our son and then looked at me. My husband and I were in the Army during the Gulf War and we would be honored to serve and defend our country again today. I knew that my husband would give him a good explanation. My husband thought for a few minutes and then told my son to go stand in our front living room window. He told him: "Son, stand there and tell me what you see?" "I see trees and cars and our neighbors houses." he replied. "OK, now I want you to pretend that our house and our yard is the United States of America and you are President Bush." Our son giggled and said "OK." "Now son, I want you to look out the window and pretend that every house and yard on this block is a different country" my husband said. "OK Dad, I'm pretending." "Now I want you to stand there and look out the window and see that man come out of his house with his wife and he has her by the hair and is hitting her. You see her bleeding and crying. He hits her in the face, he throws her on the ground, then he starts to kick her to death. Their children run out and are afraid to stop him, they are crying, they are watching this but do nothing because they are kids and afraid of their father. You see all of this son.... what do you do?" "Dad?" "What do you do son?" "I call the police, Dad." "OK. Pretend that the police are the United Nations and they take your call, listen to what you know and saw but they refuse to help. What do you do then son?" "Dad, but the police are supposed to help!" My son starts to whine. "They don't want to son, because they say that it is not their place or your place to get involved and that you should stay out of it," my husband says. "But Dad...he killed her!!" my son exclaims. "I know he did...but the police tell you to stay out of it. Now I want you to look out that window and pretend you see our neighbor who you're pretending is Saddam turn around and do the same thing to his children." "Daddy...he kills them?" "Yes son, he does. What do you do?" "Well, if the police don't want to help, I will go and ask my next door neighbor to help me stop him." our son says. "Son, our next door neighbor sees what is happening and refuses to get involved as well. He refuses to open the door and help you stop him," my husband says. "But Dad, I NEED help!!! I can't stop him by myself!!" "WHAT DO YOU DO SON?" Our son starts to cry. "OK, no one wants to help you, the man across the street saw you ask for help and saw that no one would help you stop him. He stands taller and puffs out his chest. Guess what he does next son?" "What Daddy?" "He walks across the street to the old ladies house and breaks down her door and drags her out, steals all her stuff and sets her house on fire and then...he kills her. He turns around and sees you standing in the window and laughs at you. WHAT DO YOU DO?" "Daddy..." "WHAT DO YOU DO?" Our son is crying and he looks down and he whispers, "I close the blinds, Daddy." "My husband looks at our son with tears in his eyes and asks him... "Why?" "Because Daddy.....the police are supposed to help...people who needs it....and they won't help....You always say that neighbors are supposed to HELP neighbors, but they won't help either...they won't help me stop him...I'm afraid....I can't do it by myself .Daddy.....I can't look out my window and just watch him do all these terrible things and...and.....do nothing..so....I'm just going to close the blinds....so I can't see what he's doing........and I'm going to pretend that it is not happening." I start to cry. My husband looks at our nine year old son standing in the window, looking pitiful and ashamed at his answers to my husbands questions and he tells him...."Son" "Yes, Daddy." "Open the blinds because that man.... he's at your front door..."WHAT DO YOU DO?" My son looks at his father, anger and defiance in his eyes. He balls up his tiny fists and looks his father square in the eyes, without hesitation he says: "I DEFEND MY FAMILY DAD!! I'M NOT GONNA LET HIM HURT MOMMY OR MY SISTER, DAD!!! I'M GONNA FIGHT HIM, DAD, I'M GONNA FIGHT HIM!!!!!" I see a tear roll down my husband's cheek and he grabs my son to his chest and hugs him tight, and cries..."It's too late to fight him, he's too strong and he's already at YOUR front door son.....you should have stopped him BEFORE he killed his wife. You have to do what's right, even if you have to do it alone, before......it's too late." my husband whispers. THAT scenario I just gave you is WHY we are at war with Iraq. When good men stand by and let evil happen is the greatest EVIL of all. Our President is doing what is right. We, as a free nation, must understand that this war is a war of humanity. WE must remove evil men from power so that we can continue to live in a free world where we are not afraid to look out our window. So that my nine year old son won't grow up in a world where he feels that if he just "closes" the blinds the atrocities in the world won't affect him. "The liberty we prize is not America's gift to the world, it is God's gift to humanity." George W. Bush

For my opinions on this, read http://lettersto2girls.blogspot.com/2004/09/us-role-in-world.html.

This story also can be seen at http://www.amazingstories.org/categories/story-list/read-stories/index.php?story=76

Hunting for the Harvest

A father writes to his daughters. Why would anyone hunt and kill a beautiful animal if they didn’t need the food? If you don't understand hunting, read this.

Megan and Jenna,

I figured that although you two are used to having me talk about hunting, that some day you are probably going to question it. Most people do not hunt, nor do they understand hunting. Why would a person want to kill an animal when they don't need food? You two are growing up hearing about it, so it may come more natural to you than to others, but let me try to explain it a little further.

Some men find that certain feelings arise in them once the leaves on the trees turn. There's something in the air during autumn. It stirs a man’s blood a little. It’s similar to men that love to watch football. Once the fall comes around, they feel an excitement building. I can go through the whole year not really thinking about hunting. But then, the summer ends, and fall begins. That is when my mind turns towards the woods. It took me many years to understand those feelings. You see, many people believe that we still have instincts buried deep inside us. Instincts like the animals have. Instincts of survival. And even though man doesn't need to hunt to survive anymore, those instincts are still there, suppressed. Buried deep down inside. You can’t suppress instincts just because you wear a business suit and have a wireless device attached to your ear all the time. Many people never notice those suppressed instincts. But for some of us, those feelings surface in the fall.

Hunting isn't about killing the deer. It isn't about any type of hatred for the deer. It is about living out those instincts of survival. Experiencing what it is like to provide for yourself, just as our forefathers did. Hunters find the deer to be beautiful just as non-hunters do. We don't have a desire to simply kill. In fact we are more in touch with the lives of the deer than with their deaths. We are more in touch with the lives of the deer than other people are. We are out there, in the woods, and see deer in their natural habitat. Walking, eating, and even playing. We don’t hate the deer. It’s the opposite. We respect what the deer provide for us and we reflect on a time in our history when the term ‘hunter’ was synonymous with the term ‘conservationist.’ We reflect on a time when deer sustained generations of American Indians, who had a respect for the animals they depended on for survival.

We watch them, quietly. We observe. We listen. We are there when the sun rises. When the woods are perfectly quiet. Not a sound. Then a little light starts in the eastern sky. A few birds wake up, and then chirp softly. A squirrel stirs from its nest, flickers its tail, then climbs down its tree. An owl glides swiftly by, his silhouette against the still dark sky. A little while later, there's enough light to see across the field. And you breathe through the crisp, autumn air. Listening, watching, breathing. The smell in your nose is not that of the exhaust fumes of the city; it is that of the pine, the sweetgum, the oak, the sycamore. The sounds you hear are not that of horns, motors, alarm clocks or phones. They are that of the morning breeze, the whippoorwill, the owl, the chipmunk. And there you sit, high above an expanse of three-year-old pine trees, watching across the field outlined by the burnt, reddish glow of sunrise. A fog hangs over the field covering the tops of the young trees. The redness cutting into it. A huge field of young planted pine. You see sights like this that no one else sees. And you remember that this is what brings you back, year after year. To see a sunrise like this. To share with your hunting partners in fellowship after the hunt. To live out your inner feelings.

A little while later, with a chill in the air, you strain as you hear feint, distant sounds of twigs breaking behind you. In the woods. Back behind you, in the big trees, past the sycamore, past the cypress, behind the scrub oak. Your heart jumps. Just briefly though, as you imagine it to be a deer. Your breathing becomes deeper. Yet you make no sudden movements. Sounds like that could be made by almost anything. A deer, a squirrel, a bird, a chipmunk, a rabbit. But you also know that a dog or even a person could make these sounds. So, caution is always in your mind. As you strain to hear, cupping your hand around your cold ear, you notice that the twigs breaking are a little closer now. You listen very hard to see if they sound like footsteps. Individual footsteps. Not like those of the hopping of a bird, or small animal, but of something bigger, much bigger. Your heart pounds a little harder. Your breathing gets faster. Your breath creates a fog in the cold morning air. You strain not to make any noise as you slowly, ever so slowly, turn your body into position. Caution. Be careful. No mistakes. Identify the deer clearly. Know what is out there. Your heart pounds harder now. Be careful. Leave the safety on until you are sure. Don't so much as point the barrel in that direction until you are sure. Look! Motion. Squinting harder. More motion. Another footstep. A gleam of white. The antlers. It's a buck. Look at that. How beautiful. Majestic even. Watch your breath. It'll fog up the scope. Breathe downwards so as not to fog it up. Ease the safety off quietly. Pinch your forefinger and thumb around it. Slowly. Ease it off. Silently. He doesn't know you are here. Quiet. You are sure of your stance, you have a safety strap around you. Don't let it tighten and prevent you from turning into position. Carefully now. Remember, one shot. One shot. Pick your shot. You'll only have a second…..

Afterwards, it's not exactly the celebration that you might imagine. There is happiness, certainly. But not joy. Exhilaration but not celebration. The happiness has two sides to it. It isn't pure happiness. It is, instead, a happy sadness. This creature is now dead. His life over. And that is certainly sad. He sustains you with his flesh and provides you with a satisfied feeling of having provided for yourself. A feeling that grips around you. Accomplishment to be sure. You have come onto the land of one of the most cautious creatures god created. And you have completed the harvest. Yes, I said harvest. Remember, it's not about killing. It's not about blood. It is about a harvest. Harvest in the ancient sense of the word. Harvest in the sense of peoples of old coming together to gather food. Food that had been planted and tended for a long season. God planted the seed for this harvest. And with each harvest, you show care and respect. Never goading or celebration. But a reverent respect that keeps coming back to you year after year. God provided this harvest. Remember and respect it.

A Sleek Black Dress

Megan and Jenna,

Tonight was your Mom’s 20th high school reunion. That makes her sound old doesn’t it? Well, by the time you two get to your 20th, you won’t think so. Anyway, your Mom was on the reunion committee and worked a lot over the last year to get this event organized. Being at the reunion with all your Mom’s friends was fun for me. I got to know more of her friends from when she was growing up. She will tell you that she wasn’t all that popular in high school. You wouldn’t have known it based on the way the people treated her tonight. She was really loved at that place. By both students and teachers.

It’s not those things alone either. You should have seen the way she looked tonight. My god. In high school, she would say that people wouldn’t have thought she was all that pretty, but tonight, they were standing there a little stunned. You have to understand, at a high school reunion some people look exactly the same as they did twenty years prior, others look completely different. And still others look basically the same; it’s just that they have put on a little weight. Lets say, 150 lbs or so. But your mother was the skinny, little one in high school that has ended up maturing into the most beautiful creature you’ve ever seen. Your mother was wearing this sleek black dress. The men that were there had that look on their faces of “who’s that?”, “you mean that’s Jamise?”. When your Mom reads this she’s going to blush and say that it isn’t true, but it is. It was fun to introduce myself to people and tell them to whom I was married.

I can’t tell you how many times I was off talking to people in one of the adjoining rooms of the facility and I would see her from across the room. I just kept staring at her. In that low cut black dress. Watching her. Shaking my head in disbelief that this is my wife. How did I convince her to marry me? She could have had anyone she wanted. She is beautiful, brilliant, funny, and an incredible mother to you two girls. Yet she chose me. She is mine.

Your Dad

ps- Don’t tell her I said this but it’s your mom that is the smart one in the family. Shhhh! Not a word. I don’t want it going to her head.