Christ First Forum

Lesson to a Son

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, and 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 don 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 he 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 need 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 this evil man from power so that we can continue to live in a free world where we are not afraid to look out our window and see crimes on humanity. So that my nine-year-old son won't grow up in a world where he feels that if he just "closes" that blinds the atrocities in the world won't affect him. Today the second day of "WAR on IRAQ" I felt compelled to write this and pass it along. Hopefully, you will understand the lesson my husband tried to teach our son.

"YOU MUST NEVER BE AFRAID TO DO WHAT IS RIGHT! EVEN IF YOU HAVE TO DO IT ALONE!"

BE PROUD TO BE AN AMERICAN!
BE PROUD OF OUR PRESIDENT!
BE PROUD OF OUR TROOPS!!
SUPPORT THEM!!!
SUPPORT AMERICA!!
SO THAT IN THE FUTURE OUR CHILDREN WILL NEVER HAVE TO CLOSE THEIR BLINDS...."

Author Unknown
Submitted by Richard

Leo's World

Leo smiled whenever he called himself a "diamond cutter".

The statement, however, was literally correct. Leo pushed the lawn-mower that tidied the baseball diamonds. He also cut and chalked football gridirons and raked running tracks. However, cutting, chalking and raking was only part of his responsibilities with our town's Parks Department. He also planted and pruned trees and grew and transplanted flowers.

But the job he cherished above all was printing panels with the names of local youngsters who entered military service.

Leo worked neatly and with a great eye for space. After all "Joe Jones" and "Carmine Santodominguez" had to fit the same size panels on our civic honor roll. Leo made every name readable.

Leo received the names of new inductees the same day the draft board approved them. And these names were lettered and tacked into position quickly and with the utmost care.

And, sadly, the same day the War Department released its Killed In Action lists, Leo went to the honor roll and painted a gold star on the dead service-person's panel -- between the hero's first and last names. Each hand-painted star seemed identical in its size and brightness. Our downtown honor roll was quietly beautiful and carefully maintained.

Leo moved down to Connecticut from Maine in the late 1930's and he seemed to keep his job forever -- World War II, the Korean Conflict, Vietnam, and, just before he retired, the Gulf War.

It was more than a job. It was Leo's obsession. Leo's world.

While Leo cut the grass and tended the flora dispassionately, the Honor Roll stirred him. He'd call the parents of each new recruit and tell them, "Not to worry. God is on our side. And I will pray for your kid's safe return." To Leo, these young men and women were "kids" -- his kids. He watched them grow and saw many of them compete in team sports on his grass and cinders. And he watched them work in our hometown.

And on those days he painted gold stars, he'd visit his kids' homes and shared their family's grief. He brought the ceremonial gold star flags to their widows and parents who displayed them on their front door or in their front window. Each badge of honor was softly spotted with Leo's own tears.

He also brought a white rose, which would eventually threaten his job security.

When Judson McComb, the Parks Commissioner, heard that some roses were missing from the city's greenhouses, he discovered Leo was the culprit.

They confronted each other in a closed-door meeting in McComb's office.

The pot-bellied Commissioner and the wiry suntanned diamond cutter rarely made eye-contact. Leo stared up at his boss's forehead and McComb stared down at his desk pens.

"Who do you think you are, Robin Hood?" McComb asked.

"Who are you, Sir?", Leo said politely, "the evil sheriff of Nottingham?"

McComb's bloated face reddened. "These roses are city property -- part of our departmental budget. You can't steal them. We can't give a rose to every family who loses a son or a husband in this war," McComb said.

Leo responded, "We're civil servants, aren't we?"

McComb nodded yes.

"Well, what's more civil than giving one white rose to someone who's given a son to protect us? If you and the mayor would visit these homes with me, you might change your minds. After all, I present the rose from 'Your Parks Department,' not from Leo Small."

"OK, I see, Leo," the commissioner whispered.

"You can call me Mister Small," Leo said with a grin, extending his hand.

The commissioner shook Leo's hand and smiled. And the subject was never again discussed.

Leo continued his daily routine -- cutting grass, planting flowers, pruning trees, chalking and raking athletic fields and updating the honor roll.

The "boys" at Moon's Tavern had the same daily question. "What's new, Leo?

Leo would say, "Danny Gardella just joined the Navy. Remember what a great fullback he was? All state last year."

After work one day, Leo was despondent. He told his drinking buddies that Carl Paine was killed in the Battle of the Bulge.

"Where's that?" Red Franklin asked.

"In Belgium, you nit-wit" Moon said. And the "boys" toasted Red's memory somberly, reverently and often.

"I'll be visiting the Franklin home tonight. Anybody care to join me?" Throats cleared. Then silence.

Though Leo Small never married, he had thousands of kids, most of whom returned home.

When he finally retired, Leo was asked to run for Mayor. And, with his personal following, he probably would have won. But he declined. He had enough of politics just dealing with the Parks Commissioner.

While savoring his retirement, Leo still spent a lot of time at the department's greenhouses. And he volunteered to update the reverence roll like only he could -- neatly and with great love, talent and affection.

When our hometown paper interviewed him, Leo was asked why he still tended the civic honor roll.

"It keeps me in touch my kids. I know them by name -- all of them."

By: Ron Gold
Submitted by Richard