Wednesday, August 05, 2020

Three Choices...One is Gone, the Second is Hanging by a Thread...

As free people, "free" is a bit nebulous and deserves some anchoring context, as least as it applies here.

Free is simply to live life, as you decide, unmolested by onerous governance.  Live and let live is one way to put it.  Libertarianism (capital L) boils down to no government, and that is as much a pipe dream utopia as the rainbow-dream utopia of liberals.  Such things have never worked, and can never work, because they do not mesh with human nature.

Capitalism (nb: not corporatism) works, and is superior because it works with human nature...it pits greed and selfishness against greed and selfishness.  It does not entertain fantasy; it embraces the dark reality that our nature is selfish, evil.

Back to the topic...three choices.  Those choices, in our federal republic, are simply stated: ballot box, jury box and ammo box.

The ballot box option, our first and most civil choice, is largely irrelevant in this modern time, due to past subtle, and presently blatant efforts to subvert the honesty of the process.  Mass (manipulated by the media) attempts to force the populace to accept the necessity of mail-in voting, in spite of its vulnerability to being hijacked by dishonesty, is being widely accepted by most, who are kept in fear of this virus.  Talk about a win for those who are counting on a dishonest process!  So this process, option one of three, has been on life-support for some time...but now it is dead.  By all means, vote!  But know it may not count as much as you hoped.

Our second choice, jury box, refers to jury nullification.  That is the power of a jury to overlook the evidence and to judge the law itself.  It is their absolute right...a right which NOBODY in the legal community dare discuss.  It is the giant elephant in the courtroom, whom the judge and court officers hope and pray you do not know about.  This choice is still, and always will be an option.  But it is suppressed, almost to the point of non-existence.  Telling people about this idea can be construed as a crime.  If this does not wake you up to the idea that the system is rigged against you, I wonder what would.

The final option, the ugliest of all, is the ammo box.  This is not subtle, but obviously brutal, and one which every sane man finds the most detestable.  But the fact is, when one runs out of all the sane options, only the insane remains.  Our founding fathers understood this well.  Read the Declaration of Independence.  It is not some laundry list of adolescent gripes.  It enumerates the many failures of the British Monarchy.  It was, as the signers knew, a death sentence for them, should they fail.  After the Declaration, there was no "plan B."

This is where we are now.  Voting is nearly meaningless.  Juries are filled with regular people who, for the most part, do not understand our present situation and its threat to liberty, nor do they understand their power to judge the law.

This only leaves option three, the ugliest and bloodiest of all.

History doesn't really repeat, but it rhymes.  We are on the cusp of a fourth turning, which will rhyme in some way with all the fourth turnings prior.  It is human nature, after all.

Be ready to hunker down.  Escape and evade is relevant.  And if you have to, reach for the ammo box.

Wednesday, March 20, 2019

Day 6...

Genocide, and people don't care.  Holocaust, Rawanda...the people that should care, don't.  #metoo

Dad.  It cannot get much closer than that.

God help me to quit being so fucking self-centered.

Even now.  Please, God.

Nursing home, flight home.  Out of mind?  Please no.
Please don't let him die alone.

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Day 4...

Trailer - owned
Time - fleeting
Space - rented
Money - meeting

Home - nursing
Dad - sleeping
Oxygen - humming
Cats - creeping

Liquor - flowing
Worry - dying
Neighbors - plotting
Sky - crying

h/t Stevie Ray Vaughan, a musician my dad loves and I learned to love because of him

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Day 3...

He's asleep. Early tonight...he must have been super tired, I don't know why. This frail man was and is a fighter. He did the best he could. I'm starting to think I was too hard on him. Way too hard.

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Day 2...

He is sleeping like a corpse. I watch his chest move to make sure he isn't. My dad...the man who gave me life is now fighting for his.

Given up for adoption shortly after birth. Literally shoved into a hot oven by his oh-so-loving foster parent at the ripe age of three months. He must have deserved it somehow.

Could not talk, could not walk right. This man took speech lessons or whatever the hell they called it then. He learned to talk somewhat. And for his 17th birthday his loving parents showed him the door.

So he joined the Navy. And met my mom somewhere along the way. The rest is writing this.

(I was angry when I wrote this)

Later...

The toilet off the back bedroom they prepared for me leaks. The water supply into the tank never stops. And the overflow runs into the bowl. It's like a slow continuous flush. It's like God's grace...a slow, continuous flush that never stops.

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Day 1...

It's quiet. My dad is asleep and I'm searching the nooks and crannies of this house he and Tamara called home. Not for trinkets but for meaning. Who was this woman that my dad loved? What was she like? The house stinks of cats. Tamara loved cats, too much maybe, but she loved cats. And she cared for my dad. I'll take the smell of cat urine and feces any day because she loved my dad.

Her family has been here. Her mom...a wonderful and strong woman, spent her time going through Tamara's papers in order to set straight her final affairs. Her brother Greg moved boxes and crap (Tamara was a bit of a hoarder) so her mom could get to more papers to sort through. Two other of Tamara's relatives seemed very nice but all of them just kept taking various trinkets out of the house. Quite rude considering her husband lay sick in the living room as they carried load after load out to their cars.

But then they left. And Dad and I got to talk. Years and years of hurt evaporated and melted during that time. Some from truth never heard, some from knowledge never understood. I was healed. He was comforted. And those others will never understand what happened between two men tonight.

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A Series of Posts

This long-dormant little corner of the web has come back to life.  It's a miracle!

I will begin posting some things I wrote during a very emotional time, and continue to write.  I began writing them when I went to visit my terminally-ill dad in Oregon in January 2019.  At the beginning, they are mostly about him and me together.  My trip was originally supposed to be a 4-day visit.  But two days prior to my flight, his wife and primary caregiver, passed away.  My four day visit became a month of caring for him and helping get his late wife's affairs in order, with the help of her family.  Later, they are focused on what I am dealing with at the moment - personal crises, family crises and general observations.  They are all extemporaneous, off the top of my head.  Some are just rambling, but many are my meager attempt to write in poetic form.  I worry there is not enough context available for others to understand.  If that is the case, just ask and I will try to explain, as best as I remember.

Some of the posts reference "Day 1," etc. relative to when I arrived on Jan 9.  Later posts reference the actual date.  The transition is murky, as there was a period when I lost track of which Day number it was, hence the transition.

I originally wrote these into a document titled "I fucking love my dad."  But the subject focus has broadened since then.

They will all carry the label, ramblingsofadrunkchildofgrace.

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Thursday, December 08, 2016

Obituary for Richard Wurmbrand


[Note: The following is an obituary written for Reverend Richard Wurmbrand.  The poem which he composed while imprisoned (given below) may be disturbing the first time you read it.  However, read it through, ponder its words, and consider the circumstances in which it was written.  I believe it shows a level of love that I had never fathomed before.  I pray that God would create in me the same love for Him and His son, Jesus Christ.]

REVEREND RICHARD WURMBRAND
1909-2001
Rev. Wurmbrand spent 14 years in Romanian communist prisons, of which nearly three years in a solitary cell. His life experience was described in several worldwide bestsellers (see biography and funeral announcement below.) From his book In God's Underground comes this description, in a poem, of what he considered to be one of his most important spiritual experiences:
"Alone in the cell, now, I felt Satan’s presence. It was dark and cold, and he was mocking me. The Bible speaks of places "where satyrs dance," and this had become such a place. I heard his voice day and night, "Where's Jesus? Your Savior can't save you You've been tricked, and you've tricked others. He isn't the Messiah?you followed the wrong man" I cried aloud, "Then who is the true Messiah who will come?" The answer was plain, but too blasphemous to repeat. I had written books and articles proving Christ was the Messiah, but now I could not think of one argument. The devils who made Nils Hauge, the great Norwegian evangelist, waver in his faith while in jail, who made even John the Baptist doubt in his dungeon, raged against me. I was weaponless. My joy and serenity were gone. I had felt Christ so close to me before, easing my bitterness, lightening the darkness, but now I cried, "Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani" and I felt utterly forsaken.

"During those black, horrible days, I slowly composed a long poem which may not be easily accepted by those who have not known any similar physical and spiritual state. It was my salvation. By word, rhythm and incantation, I was able to defeat Satan. Here is an unrhymed and unmetrical version which gives the exact meaning of the Rumanian:
From childhood I frequented temples and churches. In them God was glorified. Different priests sang and tensed with zeal. They claimed it right to love You. But as I grew, I saw such deep sorrow in the world of this God that I said to myself, "He has a heart of stone. Otherwise He would ease the difficulties of the way for us." Sick children struggle with fever in hospital: sad parents pray for them. Heaven is deaf. The ones we love go to the valley of death, even when our prayers are long. Innocent men are burned alive in furnaces. And heaven is silent. It lets things be. Can God wonder, if, in undertones, even the believers begin to doubt? Hungry, tortured, persecuted in their own land, they have no answers to these questions. The Almighty is disgraced by the horrors that befall us.

How can I love the creator of microbes and of tigers that tear men? How can I love Him who tortures all his servants because one ate from a tree? Sadder than Job, I have neither wife, child nor comforters, and in this prison there is neither sun nor air and the regime is hard to endure.

From my bed of planks they will make my coffin. Stretched upon it, I try to find why my thoughts run to You, why my writings all turn towards You? Why is this passionate love in my soul, why does my song go only to You? I know I am rejected; soon I will putrefy in a tomb.

The bride of the Song of Songs did not love when she asked if You are "rightly loved." Love is its own justification. Love is not for the wise. Through a thousand ordeals she will not cease to love. Though fire burns and the waves drown her, she will kiss the hand that hurts. If she finds no answer to her questions she is confident and waits. One day the sun will shine in hidden places and all will be made plain.

Forgiveness of many sins only increased Magdalene's burning love. But she gave perfume and shed tears before You said Your forgiving word. And had You not said it, still she would have sat and wept for the love she has towards You, even being in sin. She loved You before Your blood was shed. She loved You before You forgave. Neither do I ask if it is right to give You love. I do not love in hope of salvation. I would love You in everlasting misfortune. I would love You even in consuming fire. If You had refused to descend to men, You would have been my distant dream. If You had refused to sow Your word, I would love You without hearing it. If You had hesitated and fled from the Crucifixion, and I were not saved, still I would love You. And even if I found sin in You, I would cover it with my love.

Now I will dare to say mad words, so that all may know how much I love. Now I will touch untouched strings and magnify You with a new music. If the prophets had predicted another, I would leave them, not You. Let them produce a thousand proofs, I will keep my love for You. If I divined that You were a deceiver, I would pray for You weeping and, though I could not follow You in falsehood, it would not lessen my love. For Saul, Samuel passed a life in weeping and severe fasting. So my love would resist even if I knew You lost. If You, not Satan, had risen wrongly in revolt against Heaven and lost the loveliness of wings and fallen like an archangel from high, hopeless, I would hope that the Father would forgive You and that one day You would walk with Him again in the gold streets of Heaven.

If You were a myth, I would leave reality and live with You in a dream. If they proved You did not exist, You would receive life from my love. My love is mad, without motive, as Your love is, too. Lord Jesus, find some happiness here. For more I cannot give you.

When I had completed this poem, I no longer felt the nearness of Satan. He had gone. In the silence I felt the kiss of Christ, and everyone is silent when he is kissed. Quiet and joy returned."

BIOGRAPHY
Rev. Richard Wurmbrand, 91, author of 18 worldwide Christian bestsellers, translated in over 70 languages, describing his life and 14 years of communist imprisonment, was born the youngest of four boys, in a Jewish family in Bucharest, Romania. Between 1913-1919 the family lived in Istanbul, Turkey. Thefather, a dentist died from the flu epidemic in 1919. The poor widow and the four boys returned to Romania. Richard, very gifted intellectually andfluent in 9 languages, had a stormy youth, was active in leftist politics and working as a stockbroker when he married Sabina in 1936. The same year, the Jewish couple met during a vacation in the Romanian mountains, Mr. Wolfkes, a German carpenter who placed a Bible into their hands. He urged these two young, educated, Jewish intellectuals to just take the time and read at least one of the Gospels, in essence a short biography of the most famous personality of the Jewish people, Jesus Christ. Sabina and Richard, meeting also other Jewish-Christians, converted and were baptized. They joined the church of the Anglican Mission to the Jews in Bucharest, Romania. Eventually after studying, Richard, a charismatic speaker, was first ordained as an Anglican and then, following WW II, re-ordained as a Lutheran minister. Their only son, Michael was born in 1939.Due to Romania's declaration of war against England and the other Western Powers, at the beginning of WWII, the British Anglican minister had to leave Romania. Rev. Richard Wurmbrand and his wife Sabine, without thought to family or possessions, continued unafraid and without respite an intense illegal missionary Christian work. They smuggled numerous Jewish children out of ghettos, preached daily in many bomb shelters and ended up arrested many times for underground Christian activities during a state of war. At least one time they were a few hours away from being sentenced to be shot by a military Romanian tribunal, which had no patience or understanding for two Jews turned Christian and their other Jewish-Christian followers conducting such underground activities while Romania was at war. The Wurmbrands, loved and respected by many Romanian Orthodox Christian personalities though, escaped only through the intervention of a Mr. Lungulescu, chief editor of Romania's main newspaper, Universul (The Universe.) Sabine's parents, two sisters and a brother perished in Nazi massacres. Also killed by Romanian Nazi Legionnaires was Isaac Feinstein, an effective Jewish Christian missionary to the Jews in Romania, who was the main influence in the conversion of the Wurmbrands. Their lives during that period was described in Wurmbrand’s book, Christ on the Jewish Road.In the short period between the end of WWII and the transformation of Romania into a communist state (1945-1947) Rev. Wurmbrand printed and organized the undergrounddistribution of one million Russian Gospels to the Russian troops that occupied Romania. He pastored a church of 1,000, mostly made of Jewish converts. In February 1948 Rev. Richard Wurmbrand, though under Swedish diplomatic protection, was kidnapped from the street by the Communist government and disappeared in the Communist prison system. In preparation for a show trial he was kept under a secret name for nearly 3 years in a solitary cell, underwent tortures and was sentenced to 25 years of prison as an enemy of the communist state. The show trial was never held as he resisted all tortures. He spent 14 years in Communist prisons in two periods, 1948-1956 and 1959-1964. His wife, Sabina was also in a slave-labor camp from 1950-1953.He succeeded to convert to the Christian faith some secret police officers. In 1956 one of them, Mr. Sandu Franco obtained surreptitiously his release from prison by making a distracted head of the state security place his signature on arelease approval. In 1964 Norwegian Lutheran- and British Hebrew-Christians paid $10,000 to ransom him and his family from Communist Romania. Two of his brothers and Iser Harel, a formerhead of the Israeli secret services were instrumental in this transaction. His books Tortured for Christ and In God’s Underground describe some of the above in detail.The events that gave him worldwide recognition in the Western World have not been gathered before in any book and therefore are narrated here.They show themarvelous combination he was endowed with, of faith, courage and astuteness. The Wurmbrands arriving in December 1965 in Oslo, Norway and not understanding Norwegian, visited their first Sunday, the American Lutheran Church. Impressed by the freedom of worship they cried uncontrollably during the entire service.Rev. Myrus Knutson, the minister of the church, opened in deep compassion his home to the refugee family while checking through the US embassy government connections on the veracity of this refugee’s strange accounts of suffering.

"Fully reliable" was the answer received, so Rev. Wurmbrand was invited to speak at the largest NATO base chapel meeting in Oslo. The meeting being opened for questions, Colonel-Chaplain Cassius Sturdy asked Pastor Wurmbrand why the West should not try and just coexist with communism? Wurmbrand, always dramatic in his behavior, quickly stepped off the podium, snatched the colonel’s wallet from his pocket and replied,- I took your money, your money is in my pocket. Let’s coexist!- He replied further that of course communism wants to coexist once it had occupied half the globe. There might be no cure for cancer or a solution to communism, yet an accommodation with cancer and likewise with communism, is not possible. Colonel Sturdy stood up on the spot and said, Gentlemen, let’s send this man to America to snatch the wallets from all leftists and open their eyes.- Indeed, a collection was taken immediately and an itinerary organized within a month with speaking engagements for Rev. Wurmbrand mostly in the Eastern United States.Once arrivedin New York, most meetings were small military chapel gatherings and Rev. Wurmbrand scheduled immediately his return for lack of any success. Before his final departure, he was invited to Philadelphia to visit the only US friend he knew, a Jewish-Christian minister. This minister discouraged him from trying to stay in the United States as he was too old and too feeble to pastor a church, and, -you will not be able to raise a salary- were his final words. He asked the minister to show him a little bit of downtown Philadelphia. It so happened that the biggest anti-Vietnam war rally was that day underway at which a Presbyterian minister was the main pro-left speaker. Stopping to listen out of curiosity, Rev. Wurmbrand , 6’ 3- went straight for the microphone, shouting, you know nothing of communism, I am a doctor in communism. You should be on the side of communism’s victims instead of defending their torturers.- How could you be a doctor in communism?- came the sarcastic reply. Here are my credentials,- answered Wurmbrand, taking off his shirt to show deep torture scars on his torso. The police took Wurmbrand away asking him to put back his shirt, yet it was enough for newsmen to take dramatic photographs and ask for interviews. In nearly all major US newspapers, on first page, next-day, there were pictures of the minister who took off his shirt at this rally and requests for interviews and speaking engagements poured in.Rev. Wurmbrand had to postpone his return and prolong by 1 ½ month his stay in the States. Another 3-month speaking return-tour followed shortly. His testimony inMay 1966 before the U. S. Senate’s Internal Security Subcommittee became the US Government’s Printing Office most sold publication in the three subsequent years. In November 1966 , Richard, Sabina and Michael, having moved to the Sates, started Christian Missions to the Communist World.In 1990 the mission was namedVoice of the Martyrs, Inc. (based in Bartlesville, Ok., present General Director, Tom White who spent 1 ½ years in Cuban communist prisons) a world-wide organization having as its aim the help of Christians persecuted by communist regimes, evangelizing leftist. An important thrust is undertaken presently, after the fall of communism in Russia, into Moslem countries. The mission has branches in over 35 countries in the Free World. Rev. Wurmbrand traveled worldwide and conducted many influential televised interviews. For example, he left Madalyn O'Hair, the outspoken atheist, literally speechless, when asking her on live television if she knew an address of any atheist charitable institution, while there are so manycharities of different religious persuasion. The Voice of the Martyrs, Inc.activities and Rev. Wurmbrand speaking in many countries effectively drew the attention of the world to the plight of their fellow forgotten Christian brethren. Wurmbrand’s message at all times: Hate the evil systems, but love the persecutors and try to convert them to Christianity.- Profound faith, sharp thinking and quick wit combined to give him a warm personality. His principle, help anyone and give to anyone who arrived to ask from you, even you can help or give only a little.- Christian leaders around the world wrote books and testimonials about him andhave called him a living martyr and the Iron Curtain Paul.- A few of his sermons appeared in his books Sermons in Solitary Confinement- or Reaching Toward the Heights.- Continuing to travel and speak past his 85th birthday, Rev Wurmbrand was confined to his bed, for the last five years, due to strokes and severely advancing leg neuropathy contracted during his 3 years of solitary confinement which he spent mostly standing and on a starvation diet. He died in Torrance, Ca. on 2/17/01, of respiratory failure. His wife Sabina died 8/11/00.

He is survived by their son, Michael.

Saturday, June 26, 2004

Killing God

A common retort to the assertion that Jesus was the son of God has to do with his death: "How can you kill God?" Jesus himself answered this question:

Therefore My Father loves Me, because I lay down My life that I may take it again. No one takes it from Me, but I lay it down of Myself. I have power to lay it down, and I have power to take it again. This command I have received from My Father. (John 10:17,18)


So God was killed because He allowed it. Simple, really.

But why did He allow it? Because there wasn't any other way. There was no way to redeem man without a sacrifice. Jesus let himself be killed to redeem mankind. He willingly took the punishment that I deserve upon himself, so that I might be spared.

Some say that the Jews killed Jesus. Some say the Romans - but there aren't any Romans left, so the Jews have borne the brunt of this accusation throughout the millennia. And it is utterly incorrect, for this reason: Jesus laid his life down for a purpose. If He had not chosen to lay it down, no man, no army, no race on the planet would have been able to overpower Him. Oh sure, there was Judas, his betrayer. And also Caiphas, the high priest and his cohorts, who broke dozens of Jewish laws with the so-called trial of Jesus. But these were just a few people. And a few people do not constitute an entire race.

Besides, WHY did Jesus lay down His life? For me...MY sin. If we must find someone to accuse, then accuse me. I might as well have nailed him up there myself. I might as well as been the one who struck him with my fist, who spit upon him, who taunted him. I am guilty.

-----

A man at work said something odd. He said that "heaven is my home." This pronouncement startled me, and I responded "mine too." He laughed and asked if I really believed that. He said that he had been too bad, done too many things, to ever go to heaven. I tried to explain that nobody is "good enough" to get to heaven. He didn't get it.

Reminded me of something else I heard. A man was invited to church one Sunday. He said, "If I came to your church, the roof would collapse on top of me." You know, there seems to be an awful lot of people that think this way. But the good news is this: It won't collapse on you, because God already let it collapse on Jesus for you.

Sunday, June 20, 2004

The God of Little Details

It’s the little things that tell me how much God loves me.

Of course, I know that God sent his only son, Jesus, as the Lamb of Sacrifice for sins of all mankind. This alone shows the depth of His love and mercy (it is bottomless). God could have stopped there, and we’d never stop singing of His mercy. But, he didn’t stop there. He continues to work in our lives, through the day-to-day struggles that everyone must face.

It’s these that show the breadth of his love.

One night, my wife couldn’t find the children’s aspirin. As she searched the house, my 5 year old daughter, Sarah, said “God, please help mommy find the medicine.” A simple request from a child who hasn’t yet learned to doubt. How beautiful is the faith of a child!

Not even 5 seconds after this prayer, my wife found the medicine. As I listened to these events play out, I remember thinking -- after hearing my daughter’s prayer -- Well, she’ll find it now. But still I was surprised when she actually did find it -- then I marvelled at my complete lack of faith.

Even more amazing was the realization that God cares about little things too. Imagine - the Creator of the universe - Allmighty God Himself -- caring enough to help my wife find a bottle of aspirin. Caring enough to answer the prayer of a 5-year old child. Caring enough to want to help with the littlest of details.

How great Thou art, Lord.

Saturday, June 19, 2004

A really great site

Lileks.com

Gush, gush, dribble, froth. Mikey like!

I try to check this guy about 1-2 times per week. Lots of my kid this, my wife that. But some DAMN funny stuff too. Check out the bleat for daily updates. The flotsam project is great, especially the institute of official cheer. (Warning: I nearly peed my pants.)

Stay away from the music. He writes: I've suffered for my music, and now it's your turn. He's not kidding...techno remixes of classic star-trek lines???

Thursday, June 10, 2004

Sins of the father

I've found that when something about God gets stuck in my craw, or rubs me the wrong way, or just seems incomprehensible, there's usually a purpose. I think it's God's way of getting my attention. Of getting me to focus and think about something. Take this:

Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image, or any likeness of any thing that is in heaven above, or that is in the earth beneath, or that is in the water under the earth: Thou shalt not bow down thyself to them, nor serve them: for I the LORD thy God am a jealous God, visiting the iniquity of the fathers upon the children unto the third and fourth generation of them that hate me; And shewing mercy unto thousands of them that love me, and keep my commandments. Exodus 20:4-6


It hit me one day, that visiting the sins of the father on the children seems cruel. Why would God do this? It's not as if the children deserve it. It seems out of character for a loving God.

Then another thought struck me...it's purpose isn't to be cruel to one's children, but rather, to urge the father to restrain himself. As a man, and a father, nothing affects me like the thought of my children suffering. Not even the thought of my wife suffering bothers me as much (yes I do love her). There are many "secret sins" that I can do in private, rationalizing that what's done in private won't affect anybody else. Anything goes, just do no harm. Even if it harms ME in some subtle way, at least it doesn't hurt anyone else...right?

Wrong. This is wrong on its face, which I won't get into now. But God knows us, and our power to deceive ourselves and rationalize almost anything. He also knows how important my kids are to me, and the threat of them suffering because of MY sin is something I just can't rationalize. I can ignore it, but never can I rationalize it. And if I ignore it, who is the one being cruel?

So, rather than a cruel edict, this serves as a stern warning to fathers - a great big sign that reads "DO NOT GO THERE" and a photo of my children pasted underneath. Sobering.

God is alright.

INFP

F is for Feelings. Not Facts.

Google MBTI for some clue. Well, that's it about me for now.