Your Money or Your Life

Your money or your life, is a phrase and threat, that was used by highwaymen during robberies. Recently, the same ploy to take from unsuspecting prey, what belongs to them, was activated on a grand and global scale. I am going to work out this concept as I type, so bear with me, dear reader. 

It appears to me that there was at first blush a veiled threat, followed rapidly by a grotesquely real and eminent threat, presented monster big for all to see. The gun in our comparison, is a syringe, the money came in the form of employee paycheques. People chose their money over their lives, so this phrase is reversed, inverted, or swapped out somehow: Your life for your money ... Your life in exchange for the money you want to keep making ... Your life as you knew it, sold to you by the sweat of your own brow. The modern day highwaymen were and are, life robbers, guised as politicians and physicians, prostituted preachers and teachers ... The unsuspecting did not see the threat, hear the threat, comprehend the magnitude of giving into the threat, in fact, they trusted the highwaymen, and it rattles my cage to see the wicked getting away with any of the damage they have done during their destructive Godzilla like rampage. 

◾️ Do you believe, dear reader, that there are some people in the world that make it their life's ambition, to torture, to torment, to weaken and then destroy, other humans?  

◾️ Does it hurt your heart, the way it does mine, to even consider such a dreadful concept?

Daily I hear about deaths: I knew this was in my future, your future, our mutual present; I knew because poison kills, and people believed that they would not be able to live, or survive, without paycheques, so when employers imposed with incivility upon workers, with the threat, Injections or your money, many a troubled soul fearfully surrendered, arm at there side, sleeve rolled-up, in anticipation of their flesh being pierced, believing the highwaymen would take back employment, if they didn't do the bidding of the coercers. 

Many didn't do the bidding. Many said in their minds and hearts, Take my employment, the money isn't worth the risk, or giving up my freedom to choose  ... and that is the temptation we face while wandering about on God's green earth: men threaten, we acquiesce, or we trust in Providence and use our God given rights to say yay or nay, according to our values and principles.  

I met a pleasant man on the weekend. He had worked for the Salvation Army, past tense. They fired him, dear reader, when he refused to get the poisonous injections that so many are suffering side effects from, and dying from too. He had the audacity to say no, and they shamefully, had the crassness to say, Donald Trump style, You're fired. Before getting terminated, Health and Safety came after the fella to pressure him ... at the SALVATION army ... hmmm, there's that reversal, inversion, and swapping out again. What a front, The Salvation Army ought to be occupied with the saving of souls, not aiding and abetting the enemy of souls. Sigh ...

I am sad often these days. I am also joyful often these days. The sadness comes from the feeling of perpetual anticipation of yet another tragic tale, of life cut short due to well, you know, those poisonous injections that were and apparently still are, very popular in some sleepy crowds. The joy is mine when I recall that God is my hope, and that prayer is powerful, because our Creator wants none to be lost ... and so I pray for many and put my trust in Providential care for those I love.

Your money or your life, dear reader? Which will you choose, if the question is put to you again? We all got asked this question, and those that chose the expense of income loss for saying no to what did not seem fit or right to them, have no regrets; this cannot be said for the hundreds of thousands and even millions of people, that now recognize they erred in their judgment, and are currently asking themselves, What have I done?

No matter the camp you were in before, we are truly now, all in this together, and must hold each other's hands and hearts tenderly, comforting one another as we weep over loss after loss. Life is precious, and priceless, and it behooves us to recognize it as such; never allow reprobate highwaymen the pretence of holding your soul, or livelihood, hostage. You do not have to ransom your life, Christ ransomed his, paying the price for the sins of the world, yours and mine too, on the cross of Calvary. 

Trust in God as your Divine Provider... He is in charge, and each time you say yes to him and no to wicked requests, you are one step closer to heaven, even as you walk the earth. 

One last thing, before we go our separate ways ... if you haven't yet decided on your answer to the question, Your money or your life, then you actually have decided. Chances are good you will go for whatever is easiest for you in the moment, whatever is convenient. That is a wonky way of choosing and will be based on emotion rather than integrity. Think now, about your answer, for the sake of your own soul, and the souls of those that keep a close eye on what you choose ... we all have people we influence, make sure your impact on others is of a godly nature. 

Post Script: The devil's tactics are age old. He tempts with things that appeal to our senses and suggests we ignore the conscience that whispers and sometimes screams, Don't do it, DON'T DO IT ... alas, the consequences for sinful choices are varied and great, and this is what we are witnessing. 

I suggest that if you or those you love are suffering sickness from having said yes to the injections that have been marketed relentlessly for the past three years plus plus, that you repent, ask God to forgive you for making money your god, and heal you in Jesus name ... then, dear one, sin no more and live to glorify God. 

Closet Clearing

I know myself. I know who I am, what I think, how I feel. Surely, I struggle from time to time with angst and agitation, when I am searching for the just right mental hanger on which to drape my wandering and misplaced thoughts. Today I went into my closet and drawers, and began the purge ... empty hangers and cleared out drawers were a welcome sight, dear reader. 

Months ago, when my older sister Antonella died, my younger sister Patricia and I went through her closets and drawers. We hunted for precious items that reminded us of Nell's, that is our short form nickname for Antonella. When I entered my own walk-in closet this morning, I could not tolerate the junk, the heaps, the piles, the items I have purchased and worn, and then stopped wearing God knows when? The things that I paid for that no longer hold value in my sight, the things that seem vain and frivolous, that I purchased as a pleased consumer ... I put the unwanted articles on my bed, readying them for transfer to a plastic bag for permanent removal. Next, I looked to the shelves I had placed my deceased sister's belongs on, I looked to the things she had left behind. We enter into the world naked and vulnerable, and when we exit, we are subjected to the whims and wishes of others ... isn't that so, dear reader? Nell's died in a hospital bed wearing hideous hospital fashion, it's all the rage for patients, but a person that loves shopping, wouldn't be caught dead that garb ... forgive my very black humour, dear one, it matches my sad mood. 

Death unsettles, it disturbs, it makes us reticent, if we are thoughtful regarding the status of our own soul. When I wear something that I took from my sisters rooms, from her private collection of personal items, I feel engulfed with a layer of residual sadness, and it remains as a reminder whilst I sport the item, that she ought to be adorned with whatever it is that now belongs to me ... it occurs to me, the tops, the earnings, the rings, will never ever be mine, not in the truest sense of the word. These representations of her taste, her sense of fashion, her playfulness in the selecting, will always and forever belong to her, so long as I see my sister in them in my memory. 

What I wouldn't give, as the saying goes, to see her bounce into my house in one of her latest greatest Winners finds ... The Bible tells us to store up our treasures in heaven: I image my sister to be the treasure I long to find after a brief search, when I arrive there, naked and vulnerable like a new born babe, wanting to be clothed in the glory only God can provide. 

Today is a goodbye of sorts. My sisters and I have always shopped together, shared clothes (sometimes without permission, my bad), and told each other the truth when something was hideously ugly in the changing room. Today I say good-bye to what no longer suits or serves me, and some of the things that will never be filled out by me, or my lovely Nells, ever again. Oh Nells, I want you back, but it is not to be. I pray your clothes bless others, that they feel joyful in them ... you were always so generous, and literally, gave shirts and pants and earrings and rings, right off your back and legs and ears and fingers ... oh and the shoes too! You always gave away shoes!!! All your close friends can attest to that. 

Nells, I want you to know, there are none like you. You were an interesting cat, we miss you, long to hear from you, and only wish against wishing, that you would text or call, or pop on by ... nothing is the same without you ... All my love, Linda. 

Truckers

On Thursday September 12th, my son and I hit the highway, bound for North Carolina, for his ordination as an Anglican priest. Who knew we would be winding up, then down, and next through, mountains? Seeing the men working construction had me feeling very grateful and appreciative of the strenuous contributions they make that allow safe and almost effortless passage. I admire men greatly, and have always found it irksome, to hear women say nonsensical things, about not needing men: Did you know the term for hating or distrusting men, is labeled misandrist? Ya, I didn't either, but women are misandrists when they hate on men, and it is shameful ... because God knows most women can't figure out how to use the TV remote, let alone design and build highways, houses, malls, and skyscrapers!  

While on the road, my son and I saw some signs that made us curious. These signs repeated in intervals, followed by steep and long hillside inclines. We put two and two together before long, and my soul did a little terrified shiver when I realized what the signs, coupled with the hills, represented. I have included pictures! Do look now. Mind you, the incline in my pictures does not look intimidatingly steep, but dear reader, make no mistake, the grade upward was crazy!

Now maybe you have seen these before, or heard about them? but Matthew and I had never been exposed to the concept of a truck driver needing someplace to slow and stop his runaway truck when his brakes failed, and when he found himself picking up unstoppable speed while rolling downhill. Think with me, how many lives would be at risk, if this brake failure, on mountains, were a common occurrence. Isn't that a yikes inducing idea? Men build and maintain trucks, and some really smart men built stop 'em ramps, for the occasions trucks endanger lives when disabled from slowing to a safe stop. When I think of how many accidents do not happen, I am humbled to a grateful heap of wonder. When we see cars crushed or spun backward on the roads we regularly travel, we all slow down a little out of curiosity with one question coming to mind: Is everyone okay? It isn't long after the rubber necking, that people pass and pick up speed again, as though they never really considered the reality, that the next accident waiting to happen, could be the one they find themselves in. But for the mercy of God, go I, and you, and them too, dear reader. 

As I consider the work truckers do, I glow with a gratitude attitude. My son pointed out that the population of America is massive, and the trucks travelling to and fro across the country and into ours too, feed the masses, clothe the masses, supply and remove and provide and and ... I know this is not a new concept, but man alive, those Run Away Truck Ramp signs, and those Run Away Truck Ramp hills, sure did give me cause for pause and consideration. These drivers risk life and limb daily, and I am thankful for their contribution to the life we all live.

Our stay

The first hotel we stayed at was near a truck stop. Prostitutes were entering and exiting some of the trucks parked for the night. Work takes men away from family, for days on end sometimes, and I am confident that many a man, in the loneliest of situations, resist temptations, and remain faithful to their kin. There is an underbelly in boardrooms and back allies, there is an underbelly in pulpits and the pews that are occupied by would be saints ... and there are those that resist, those that can be counted on to take risks that the fear filled and fleshly will not take, risks that preserve us in our unaware states of being. 

Truckers do an extraordinary job. They are the keepers of the keys of safety and provision. We owe them a debt of gratitude ... I recall a flat tire in the middle of winter, changed for me by a trucker that pulled over immediately upon seeing my little red gulf stopped on the side of the 401 highway. There were four of us in that car that day; my son Matthew was one of the passengers, and was a tike at the time. I didn't have a cell phone, or roadside assistance ... we had a trucker act as guardian angel, and dear reader, this is a tribute to all those guys out there that deserve a big Thank-You, for all you do for our benefit, whether we realize it or not.

Men are wonderful, and God made them. Truckers are currently my favourite sort of unsung hero, praise be to God Almighty, for all they do for little old me and you.