I never thought I'd come back to this blog after my last post.  The past three years have been extremely trying in ways that are hard to express without making it seem as if I'm feeling sorry for myself. The entire purpose of this blog was to highlight the peace that is to be found in the presence of God.  As I wrote my last blog, that peace had become harder to hold onto.  Not that it wasn't there, but it was harder for me to hold on to.  

Since my last blog post, my Dad died shortly before his 88th birthday, and right after my fetching wife Glenda was diagnosed with Glioblastoma multiforma.  Glioblastoma has no cure, and very limited treatment.  The prognosis is never good, and measured in months, not years.  So, lest I melt into a puddle of misery, and the aforementioned self pity, let me say it has been a strange time of growth.  

This blog came about because of something my wife said the other day as we were driving to Branson, Missouri. As we were leaving our driveway she pointed to the telephone wire loaded with sparrows.  "They're waiting for someone to say it's time to leave, but the line is busy."   Yep, that's how her mind works as of late.

I don't know how much longer she has.  That's a tough statement to make, but in this modern age when we can stave off death with the miracles of medicine and machines, I've forgotten the better statement.  I know how long she has had. That is the real measure.  Years aren't worth anything if they aren't filled with joy.  This was brought home to me yesterday morning as our Pastor was teaching on Matthew chapter 10.  When he read verses 28 - 31, my mind went immediately to Glenda's observation of the sparrows on the telephone line. In those verses, Jesus talks about the sparrows being sold 2 for a copper coin, and then if one of them falls the Father knows it, and never forgets.  My study bible does a cross reference to Luke 12:6 where Jesus says that five sparrows are sold for two copper coins. When Jesus says that the Father doesn't forget a single one of them, we are reminded of what he just said about the four.  It is easy to think that the fifth sparrow didn't cost anything.  

Sometimes we feel like the fifth sparrow.  We get lost in the deal, and we're seemingly worthless.  I think that is what happens when we don't value the life we've lived.  I've personally never been to a funeral where they talked about the life the person could have had, but rather they celebrate the life they lived.  So, I'm celebrating my wife while she still lives, serving her to the best of my ability, and filling her days with as much joy as she can muster the strength for.  God set this time up for me to be able to be home all the time thanks to my parents leaving me a nice inheritance.  He also gave me the opportunity to learn how to take care of someone through what my parents went through.  I'm not the noble loving son, or even a noble loving husband.  What I do now can't even make up for the many years of being self-centered, and oblivious to the needs of my loved ones.  So please don't ascribe anything to me I'm not.  I simply love my wife, have always loved her, and will love her to the end.  

If you are a young person reading this, please learn from this old man.  The person you chose to walk this life with is the greatest joy you'll ever know.  Work is empty and useless when you are used up.  Friends are wonderful, but they have lives of their own.  Your children can be there for you, and help you walk through the last stages of your life, but only that one you chose to love can give you true joy.  

So what about the presence of God in all of this?  I've discovered Him more in these last few years than I ever had.  Everything that comes with death is only possible if we've lived. I'll let you know how it all ends once I know.    

 I'm saying goodbye to the Sparrow's Perch.  Actually I just won't be writing on this blogspot any more.  I never thought I'd hear myself say this, but I'm tired of writing.  There used to be a time when writing was therapeutic for me.  I used to be able to sit at my computer and write away my frustrations and aggravations, but the weight of my mother's death, and the long year leading up to it took a lot out of me.  Sometimes I think it would have been more merciful if she'd died quickly in a tragic, and senseless accident.  Instead, I watched her slowly fade and disappear before my eyes.  Now, I'm seeing the same thing with my father.  

This man who was once larger than life, amazingly strong, physically resilient, and filled with unending energy has become an empty shell with very little left of what he once was.  The recliner has become his home.  He walks slower than a toddler, and can barely get to his feet from a chair.  Dressing himself is fraught with the threat of falling or injury from moving locked up joints. He is suffering from dementia just as my mother did. He doesn't remember to take his medicine, and worst of all he forgets his insulin. All of this is familiar territory from when I took care of my mom.  The weight of his decline is heavier than I thought it would be. There isn't any joy in writing, and sadly, writing is the last thing I want to do. When I sit down to my computer I feel helpless against the ravages of time, and what it is doing to my Dad.  Perhaps, I'm feeling the pressure of time on myself.

Sometimes I wonder if dementia is the way we jettison those things that are burdens. Other times I think it is a cruel joke on those who you've loved, and still love you. As I watched my mother disappear slowly before my eyes, I would often question God's plan, and purpose. That's not to say I've lost my faith in God, nor have I changed my views on the provision of God. I still believe there is a secret place with God that we have access to by the cross of Christ.  What's changed is my need to publish my thoughts about that place.  This planet is a small little rock, going around an ordinary sun that exists on the outer rim of a nondescript  galaxy in a massive universe. There are more exotic places in the universe, but they could not be the cradle of life that we see here on our nondescript planet we call home.  Billions, maybe trillions of sparrows have flown through the skies of this earth from its creation till now. Time marches on, and our lives flow ever onward like a river to the sea. This moment will be over as I type out these words, and we will have spun ever so perceptively in our journey through this universe. What few people have sat down to read my blogs will soon pass this vale, as I am destined to. When I'm gone from this vale, my place in this universe will be remembered for the briefest of time by those who loved me, and knew me.  Perhaps they'll hold fond memories of me, but for the most part, I suspect that my mother's words will ring true; People don't think about you near as much as you think they do.  

There are many things I wish I'd done through the years, but expedience, fear, and practicality prevented me from doing them. Some of those things I'm truly glad I did not do. There is no place more exotic than home, and no place that you can discover greater things than your own backyard.  I've been to three continents, seen technological wonders that many people have only dreamed about, and been a participant in events that were reserved for a handful of men, and women.  When I pass this vale, they will be gone.  David Bragg will be forgotten, and my achievements lost to the ravages of time.  As I watched the sparrows flit, and fly from place to place, I became aware that it is only this moment that matters.  

So with that thought in mind, I will lay aside my metaphoric pen, and let my musings die with me when I pass this vale. 

TIRED

 It's not quite spring here in Harrison, Arkansas, but you wouldn't know it for the beautiful spring like weather.  Only a few days ago we had a beautiful snow that covered the surrounding area with a wonderful blanket of white.  Since my mother's death in late October of last year, I've been keeping a watchful eye on my 86 year old father.  I go to his house every morning to ensure he's alive, to medicate him, and feed him.  Every morning we sit at the breakfast nook and watch the birds as they devour the morning supply of birdseed I throw out for them.  I try to keep the birdbath filled but it got cracked during one of the really cold days we had this winter. It doesn't hold water for more than an hour, but it is long enough for the sparrows, and wrens to enjoy a quick splash.  As I watch the parade of birds it becomes apparent that the sparrows don't stand much of a chance against their larger cousins like robins, doves, starlings, and then of course the bluebird, which is really a bully.  Dad and I watch this show every morning because my Mom enjoyed it so much. It goes a long way to connecting us since her passing.  He often remarks about the little finches that they were mom's favorite.  Occasionally a hummingbird will fly in and enjoy their special feeder, only to be frightened away as other birds zip in and out.  It is a fascinating spectacle that plays out amidst the cruelty of the Russian invasion of Ukraine, and a host of other world crisis that fill our news feeds, and media.  

I'm tired of the bloodshed. More so now, than I've ever been before.  Having just passed my 67th year upon this vale, I've seen more war than I care to see.  As a member of the Air Force during the 80's, and early nineties, I even helped to make war. This is something I'm not proud of anymore.  Actually, I often think to myself that no army in this world should contain men under the age of 60.  There is a wisdom in years, that knows there are no real winners in a war.  Yet, here we are facing the threat of another world war whose roots can be found in the stupidity of generations past.  

I'm tired of bullies like Putin, who take what they want, and deprive others of what they need all in the interest of something that is transitory at best.  Just within this week I've heard Putin invoke the threat of nuclear war, and China somehow invoked the same threat in it's measured march to invade Taiwan.  Every news media report I watch or read, seems to fear the Russian threat of Nuclear war.  Where is the response from our leaders?  We didn't threaten Russia with nuclear war.  We haven't threatened China with Nuclear war.  These are like the robins and blue jays that attack the little sparrows trying to get at the abundant supply of feed I've thrown out to them.  

I'm tired of the suffering of civilians no matter where they're at, being caught in the cross-hairs of some demented mind trying to subjugate others to their will.  I'm tired of it all, and I long for someone to stand up to their cruelty.  You see, as tired as I am of the bloodshed, and war, it is painfully obvious that those who wield power, want more.  What are we to do?  How can good men do something?  How can the gentle of heart withstand the cruelty of the bloodthirsty?  At what point do good men wishing to defend goodness become just as brutal as those who begin a conflict?  There was a time in our nation's history when we were forgiving to those who launched attacks against us.  Germany, Japan, Russia, and even China eventually benefited from American good will once a conflict was over.  

Ukraine was never a physical threat to Russia, but Ukraine has vast quantities of oil both in their borders, and offshore.  Add to that, they also have a warm water port that Russia needs if it is to become a dominant world power again.  This is the 'seed' that Putin wants, and because he can intimidate, and threaten with the most terrifying power on earth, he will probably get it.  It is a matter of historical fact, that the powerful can never have enough power. I'm tired of that being the course of human history.  Putin isn't the only one with nuclear weapons, and perhaps President Biden should man up and remind Putin and Xi of that.  I was in elementary school that last time a President actually stood up to a bully.  Is there a threat of nuclear war?  Yes, but do you really think Putin would do it?  Are we playing poker, or chess? 

You see, as I watch the drama playing out in the media, I'm reminded that cruelty exists even in the innocent lives of sparrows.  The other day I saw something I'd never seen before. I watched a Robin strutting up to the feed box, and drive away the little sparrows that were eating there. It made me so angry I reached over and tapped on the window. The robin flew off, but the sparrows stayed there unaffected.  If we would learn one simple lesson from the sparrow that lives in the shelter of the Almighty, war would be far from us. If we would place more value on doing good, instead of getting good, we would find our rest in the nurture and care of the Most High.  The blue-jays, the robins, the mockingbirds, had nothing until I threw out the food for them.  There is plenty, and will continue to be plenty from a hand that has nothing to gain from their petty little squabbles.  Everything we enjoy upon this earth comes from the Father's hands.  Every good gift is his desire for us.  When every last drop of oil is pumped from beneath our feet, we will find another way to live out our days until this universe is rolled up like a scroll, and put away.  I'm tired of people who don't understand that. 

GRIEVING FOR MY MOM

This is not a memorial for my Mom.  I've already spoken of my Mom's beauty and grace, and my brothers both did her far more justice than I could have.  On October 28th at 10:45 Beverly Rae Bragg, my mother, went to be with her blessed savior. I've written about my Mom's impending death on at least three or four occasions in this blog. Since my last blog, things went downhill rather quickly. I didn't know how it would affect me, and to be honest, I didn't really want to know.  I've always tried to tie my thoughts into the sparrows that inhabit my yard, but I can't do it this time.  I didn't realize how deeply her passing would affect me, and it has taken me a couple of weeks to get my breath.  I've had lots of family members pass during my 66 years on this earth, but I'd been blessed to have my Mom and Dad with me well into my sixties.  I hate it when we say we've lost someone in our lives, because I didn't lose my Mom.  She went to be with Jesus, and her passing didn't happen alone. 

It was a privilege to be with her as she passed this vale.  Her long battle with dementia was difficult to watch, especially because she'd been the brightest light of all of us. Watching her light slowly fade to dementia was my greatest heartache. In the end, death seemed a welcome end to the pain she'd endured.

As I wrote in my last blog, my mother's condition resulted in her having to be put in a Rehab center at a local nursing home. I have nothing against Nursing Homes, but they aren't the answer for some people.  Momma was one of those people.  Because she'd always been a people person all of her life, we assumed that it would be a wonderful place for her to meet, and make new friends.  Boy, were we wrong.  Despite her dementia, she retained her pride, and need to be self sufficient. She refused to eat in the dining area, and slowly diminished before our eyes.  At the end of her rehab, it was obvious that we'd done her a disservice. Our intentions were good, but you know what they say about good intentions.  

We took her home at the end of her rehab,and to be honest, I didn't know what to expect when someone died. I'm reluctant to say I was spared that sorrow for most of my life, because being with my mother in her last moments was a privilege.  Even though the stages of death are well documented, and explained on many websites, each person is different.  My mother began stage 1 almost from the moment we took her out of the rehabilitation center on August 27th. A week later, her kidneys began to fail, eventually she lost her appetite.  She wouldn't eat but a couple of bites of food at first, and then sometimes not at all.  For the longest of time her favorite meal was a Snickers bar and an unending supply of Coca Cola. Go figure!  We would do everything to coax her to eat to no avail.  Both of my brothers came to visit her, and both times she drew upon some inner strength to be there for them. Still, she refused to eat.  Her caregivers tried everything, but she had no interest in food.  Then mystery upon mystery, she would get busy at night and we'd find her on the floor every morning. Next to her we'd find the empty wrappers of snickers bars she'd found in the night.  Of the many things I learned about dying, I learned, you can't force your loved one to eat, and you can't keep them in the bed. Her kidneys were failing, and there was nothing we could do.  That's when the Doctor put her into hospice care.  

 I'm glad we did it.  Hospice allowed her to remain at home and finish her days with dignity. It is hard for me to talk about her last days without mentioning myself.  It is my eyes that saw her waste away to 78 pounds.  It was my ears that heard her ask the same questions over and over again.  It was my heart that felt the intractable hand of death move me aside and take her away from me. I counted it a privilege to sit next to her and hold her hand as she moved back and forth in her tug of war with death. I wouldn't trade the last three months of her life for all the money in the world.  

Every day I would walk the halls of her memories, feeling her joy at my birth, the love for my Dad, and understanding the amazing love she felt for my two brothers. Although the dementia had stolen her short term memory, her long term memories were intact. Most of all, I was able to ask forgiveness for all the pain I'd caused her through the years. There are things that are best left to follow us into the grave, and things that should be dealt with before we leave. If this blog does one thing, I hope it will encourage you to go to your loved ones, and let them know how much you love them and what you appreciate about them.  In Mom's case, we laughed at some of the stupid things I'd done, and at some of the crazy antics she did when I was a little child.  She never knew how much I loved some of her idiosyncrasies until I told her.  

Sunday, October 23rd, she slipped into stage two of dying.  She stopped eating altogether, and her voice became frail. She couldn't swallow, which meant she couldn't have her cokes.  It was my turn to talk to her instead of with her.    

Monday and Tuesday,   On Monday morning, her hospice nurse stood outside with me and informed me that Mom was in stage two and it wouldn't be long.  I heard my Mom on the other side of the door say "It's not nice to whisper."  I went back inside and told her we were just discussing her condition.  "I heard you."  she said.  Which busted me into tears.  Of all the things that failed her, her hearing was not one of them. I called all of the close family and told them that she was not long for this earth.  My daughter Amy, a registered nurse, had been her constant companion for over 3 months.  She would drive all the way from Springfield, Missouri to spend the afternoons with her grandma.  It wasn't as a nurse that she came to see her.  Amy would sit and crochet an afghan blanket for her mother, while my Mom would ask every day who she was making it for.  Amy would tell her she was making it for her Momma, but it was obvious that Mom was hoping it was going to be hers.  Amy got to talk to her about things I didn't dare bring up.  The two of them shared secrets I wouldn't dare ask about. When Mom began to fail, I could see my daughter's anger rise at the cruelty of death.  It is one thing to be a nurse in a cardiac wing and quite another to let your beloved grandmother step into the waiting arms of her savior.  By Tuesday night, everything was failing.  Family were desperately trying to get away to hopefully make it there in time to say goodbye to her.  Stage two can last for weeks, or hours, in Mom's case it only lasted for two days. Her Hospice doctor prescribed a Comfort pack.  Which I won't explain, but it is a final step in the care of a dying loved one.

Wednesday! The day before she left will always be etched in my mind. When I arrived Wednesday morning I thought we'd been given a reprieve.  A thin unforced smile worked it's way across her face.  Everything was bright, and she giggled about the silliest things. My wife, and daughter, along with her home care provider, Susan, spent the entire morning laughing, and joking.  Her voice was weak but her mind, and body had rallied one last time.  It was the most lucid I'd seen her in a long time.  In the face of 86 years of unconditional love, I saw her as Christ saw her.  His lovely daughter, innocent, and full of life.  About 2 pm, she slipped into stage three.  We administered the first dose of pain reliever to take the edge off of her passing.  My daughter Amanda arrived shortly after midnight Thursday morning, and took up residence by her head.  I held her hand occasionally, but by that time her limbs were locking up.  

Thursday! It was a dreary, wet morning. I thought of Psalm 116 where it says 'precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of His saints. O Lord, truly I am your servant, the child of your maidservant; you have freed me from my chains.  She passed this vale with Amy playing her favorite hymns on her phone, while Amanda read Psalms to her.  I'd stepped outside to help my son-in-law set up their travel trailer when Amanda came running outside to tell me that she thought Mom was passing.  I ran in just after she'd taken her last breath.  I'm told that she took two quick breaths, and left us. That picture of my two daughters sobbing over their beloved grandmother will forever be etched in my mind.  She walked from love to love.  I'm glad they were there.   

Sparrows can't feel this depth of grief, and I can't expect science to make sense of it. I do know that I was unable to stop touching her lifeless hand.  They were beautiful hands!  These were the hands that bathed me as an infant, changed my diapers, held me up as I took my first steps, and often cradled my face as she declared her love and pride in me.  I will be forever grateful to God for allowing me to be there as she went to Him.  I will forever remember her beautiful hands that held my aching heart as tears splashed over them. She will always be that gentle sparrow to me.  Gentle and kind, loving, and good. 

MOMMA BIRD

This summer has been unusually dry, and hot.  In early July, it looked like we were going to be temperate, and modestly wet, but it was not to be so.  The sparrows have hung out in my yard thanks to a raised garden we put in this year.  They quickly devoured any strawberries that we had, and pecked away at some of our other veggies as they were growing.  I watched as younglings hatched and momma birds searched frantically for food to feed them.  Then I watched the young birds begin to mature and lose their yellow beaks.  Time marches on, and the cycle of life goes on.  I've had to watch this cycle play out in my own life as I've become the caregiver for my 86 year old parents.  

At the beginning of 2020 during the height of the Covid-19 virus, my primary goal was to keep them from going into town.  This wasn't a problem for my mother, who's dementia kept her from driving.  I had to keep stressing the importance of mask wearing to my father, who suffers from Congestive Heart Failure, diabetes, and a host of other conditions.  He could still drive, and he began to take full advantage of the special shopping hours set aside for the elderly.  Then came the vaccines!!  

The vaccines gave my Dad, and my Mom the ability to get out once again.  Sadly, the year of isolation took a heavy toll on my mother's mental state.  Dementia began to steal memories of  mid-life, and slowly erased memories of my early adulthood.  Her amazing career as a computer programmer for the government eventually disappeared into a murky one line sentence that capsulized her experience as a one hour drive there and back. Losing those memories was like losing who she was.  She was the brightest of us all! I was so proud of her for learning how to program with only a High School education.  

As she turned 86 on May the 4th of this year she could sit up, walk with a walker, and carry on a conversation, even though you might have to answer the same question at least ten or twelve times in 30 minutes. At least she was still there. She made eye contact, smiled, and laughed at my teasing.  At the same time, my Dad's health began to fail rapidly.  The heart failure combined with A-fib forced him into a recliner. "I can't breathe," was almost a daily refrain.  He got on a first name basis with the ER doctors and nurses at our local hospital.  

As part of my daily routine, I would drive six miles to their house early in the morning to ensure that they were both alive and give mom her meds.  At the end of July I came in and found my mother on the floor in front of the couch, covered up by quilts and comforters so that you didn't see her at first.  Only a soft moan alerted me to where she was.  My Dad and I tried to lift her, but she screamed in pain so we had to call the paramedics.  (I'm no spring chicken myself.) Against her protestations, we had them take her to the hospital.  She'd suffered severe Digoxin Toxicity due to her taking pills without us knowing.  The hospital admitted her for two more days to hopefully cleanse her system.  The digoxin poisoning led to a heart rate of 40bpm which in turn meant she was getting reduced blood to her brain.  As she became physically better, it became apparent that the dementia was much worse.  At the advice of the doctors, we put her in rehab for 21 days.  During that time they got rid of the severe edema in her legs, and gave her back some mobility that she'd lost. What they couldn't give back was her mind.  So, we brought her home.

I can only speak from a man's point of view, but I do know that most men hope to die "with their boots on," or at least pass away in their sleep suddenly. There is a great sadness in watching my delicate mother waste away. I've cried more in the last two weeks than I have in a long, long time.  It doesn't take much to send me over the edge. My mother was a powerful woman of God, a spiritual powerhouse of prayer, empathy, and tenderness.  My childhood friends adored her, and would often stay till all hours of the night sharing their deepest feelings to her.  She was my refuge when my Dad was being a jerk, and when my peers were being jerks.  Outside of my wife, no one knew me better than my mom.  That person is gone.  

Why did I write all of this?  Today, as I was working on a drain line in their kitchen, I heard her call out for her mother.  "Mom." she said softly, and then a louder call.  I came in, and she said; "Mom, I don't feel good."  I held her hand and asked her softly what she needed.  "I don't need anything."  she replied, "I'm just cold."  So, I put another blanket on her.   

I don't know of many animals that grieve their aging parents.  It is nature's way to let the sick and frail fall prey to the ravages of predators or harsh weather.  Yet, humans seem to anguish over their ailing parents till the day of their passing.  I don't think any of us pass this vale without God taking notice.  He cares for us.  Glenda, my wife, asked me if those with dementia still have the anointing.  As I watch my mother slowly depart this vale, I have to say, no. Her spirit has left the tent that is her body.  The body, and mind are there, but the spirit has gone home.  I am grieving as I watch her give way to the physical death we must all partake of, but I rejoice as I think of her spirit resting from its labors.  

And with that, more tears, and a terrible sadness.  

AS a sad side note, the need for home care providers has made it almost impossible to get her professional end of life care in our community. Covid, especially the delta variant has wreaked havoc on the health care community.  My Dad can help her to some degree, but she needs more care than he can provide.  I still have a business that I must attend to, or I will lose it.  Many nursing homes are short staffed, and some won't even open their doors to allow family to visit. I can't help but wonder how many Momma Birds will pass this vale alone, and fearful.  

THE FREE AND THE BRAVE

 It is very difficult to write this blog in light of the political upheaval we are facing as a nation. It is about 4:30 in the morning, Sunday July 4th 2021.  There is a faint blue band of light out on the eastern horizon, and I can hear the sparrows in the neighbors tree begin to stir.  They have no clue as to the significance of this day for me, and millions like me.  

It is refreshing for the fourth of July to be on a Sunday!  This nation was was founded on Christian principles, and that it still endures is a testament to the foresight of the founders, as well as the plan of God. It's easy to look at the current state of affairs and assume that this is the worst it has ever been.  I believe today's political climate is bad!  The social upheaval we're facing is terrifying to those of us who believe in liberty, and this great republic.  As a nation we've been through this many times before. The path of liberty is always and ever toward progressive societies. Fear, and liberty are the two monstrous forces always at work in any republic, and it is foolish to ignore either of them.  It takes great bravery to resist the desire to surrender your liberties for the illusion of safety. 

At the end of the Star Spangled Banner there is a very stirring line that has become a descriptor of the people who live in this great nation.  If you go to a sporting event where they still play it, or if you are in a school  where they sing it, the final line always seems to be sung louder and with more conviction than the entire song. 

"O say does that star-spangled banner yet wave, O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave."  

No other nation on earth has enjoyed the liberty this nation has experienced for over two hundred years.  Freedom is not an easy choice!  It takes a brave people to live free.  The history of mankind isn't about freedom. The history of mankind is replete with fatalism. Societies, and governments were often built upon the idea that there were people born to lead, and govern those who were born to live in subjugation to those leaders.  When a human being gets a taste of power, they want more, and the only way to get more is to take it from others.  People have experienced moments of freedom throughout the history of the earth, but it is quickly given up because of fear. Throughout my lifetime I've seen the growing threat of Marxism around our globe as nation after nation tries to implement the idea of big government being the solution.  It takes brave hearts to stand against it.  There is a desire within all people for someone to take care of them.  It takes bravery to resist its allure.  Liberty implies that you alone are responsible for you.  That concept requires immense bravery.  Liberty is born of a belief in God, and His concern for your well being. Christians use the word faith to describe their belief in God, but I like to think that faith and bravery are the same thing.  God doesn't offer any of us a guarantee except the promise that we are free.  We are free to choose Him and live by His tenants, or we are free to live in unbelief. No matter what choice you make, He allows you to choose your own path, do what you want to do, and be what you want to be.  It is people who subjugate one another, and it is people who suppress each other.  

I am okay with my fate being in my hands.  I'm a self-employed handyman who picks up small jobs, and I'm happy with what comes my way.  No other person is responsible for my life. I can live in wealth, or I can live in comfort.  I can choose when to work, and when not to work.  The idea of being 'employed' by someone else is abhorrent to me. At the same time I don't want to be responsible for anyone else.  I don't want to dictate to anyone else how they should live their life.  Whether my days end in ease or pain, I want the liberty to live my life with my own convictions.  Socialism is not liberty. 

Outside my glass storm door, the sparrows are beginning to pick through the grass in my front yard in search of food.  They live in total freedom, and I envy them.    

My hope for this great nation as the sun begins to break on the horizon is that we are brave enough to live free.  Let the fireworks begin!

THE SPARROW THAT LIVES FREE

The election of Nov 3rd, 2020 changed everything for me.  I am no longer the person who believed in the goodness of our nation, and the ability of our people to make wise decisions come election time.  Believe it or not, I'd come to peace with the election of President Obama because I knew his polished communication skills, combined with a sympathetic press, made his election possible.  He could elucidate his plans, and do it in such a way that he was able to make center right people vote for him.  Well done!

Biden's election is a sham, and a testament to the unending left wing media bashing of President Trump. I am convinced and will not be dissuaded from my belief that there was widespread election fraud in this election.  I also blame it on good hearted idiots who don't understand that by voting for a third party candidate they were voting for Biden.  It goes without saying that the Libertarian Candidate drew more votes away from Trump than Biden.  So, I will resist this administration just as the left resisted President Trump.  I refuse to believe that a mentally infirm man who didn't campaign won the election fair and square.  

I am not being melodramatic when I say 'goodbye to America.'  Our freedoms are as good as gone under a Biden presidency.  

At least my Sparrows live free.  

I will pray for this administration, but I will do it by asking God for a righteous leader who will take us back to the greatness our founding fathers planned for us.  

I will pray for God to guide us back to being a nation that abhors death, but is willing to die for the sake of freedom.  

I wish I were a sparrow so that I can fly far away from the evil that has been thrust upon our nation by the elitists on our coasts.  

This isn't a prophecy, but it is a promise based upon what I know has happened in the past.

In the next four years you will see martial law used to quell unrest.  The wealthiest will NOT be taxed, but the middle class and those in the lower class will.  The elderly and infirm will be left to die by choice.  Our once great medical superiority will be sacrificed for mediocre and unreachable healthcare. Finally, industry and the machine of greatness will leave our shores.  While I don't believe in Ayn Rands economic political vision, I do agree with how she saw the destruction of Capitalism occur.  You are seeing that happen right now.  

There is a vindictive part of me that wants to see the leftist elites get there just rewards, but there is also a part of me who doesn't want to see people suffer.  

There will be no healing for America this time around, because the sparrow that lives free doesn't care about being put in a cage.