Pickin' Up Poop

URINE REMOVER

We were walking around Lowe’s the other day.  We had just moved into a new house.  It’s the only time my wife likes being at Lowe's.  She gets to decorate.  Organization.  Under the sink storage; closet storage.  We were walking down the cleaning product aisle.  In Lowe's.  Cleaning products.  How did that happen? 

I get how it started.  I'm betting it started with push brooms.  That’s a man’s broom.  Some manly man doesn’t want to use a pink broom to sweep out the garage, so he has a huge push broom.  Then they said, “Let’s add mops.  That’s kind of like a broom.”  Then they had to add the cleaning products to use with the mops. 

And there's toilet paper.

Yes, Lowe’s sells toilet paper.  Really?

I won’t even go there.

HAHA!  Go there………nevermind.

So we’re walking down the cleaning aisle, looking at something to clean our new hand scraped wood floors.  Hand scraped.  I scraped our hardwood floors once and got yelled at.  NOW, they’re the nicest thing to have in your house.  Go figure. 

So I’m a couple of steps ahead of my wife, and she taps me on the shoulder.  I turn around and she is holding a bottle of Urine remover.

Urine remover?  That’s GENIUS!

I look at the shelf, and there is plenty of it.

“Stay here,” I tell her, as I rush off. 

I come back with an empty cart, and start loading up.  Little bit of useless trivia for you here.  You can fit 119 bottles of Urine Remover in a Lowe’s shopping cart.

We get to the register, and the woman obviously wasn’t happy I chose her lane.  Maybe she was at the end of her shift.  But kudos to her; she is trying to be nice.

“Goodness,” she says, looking at the cart.  “Do you know how many you have?”

“No,” I smile.  “I didn’t count.  I just dumped them all in.

She is trying to be polite, but I can sense the tension.

“You must have a LOT of dogs,” she says, shaking her head slightly.

What kind of dumb statement is that?  How did she make that assumption?  I look at my wife, and she gives me a look that seems to convey that I’m the one not understanding something.

She grabs her little scanner, and comes around to our side of the counter.  She grabs an empty basket, and pulls it next to ours.  Picking up the bottles, she begins to scan.

“One, two, three…”

I can see her smile leaving as she gets to around thirty.

“Guess I should have counted them,” I offer.

Her smile is completely gone now.

She empties the partially filled basket and starts over.

“One, two, three.”

I look back at my wife, who is smirking and shaking her head.

I give her the look that only people who have been married for fifteen years have learned to comprehend.  She steps toward me, and says I messed up her counting by talking to her.

“…twenty-one, twenty-two…”

Being the nice guy I am, I quickly apologize.

I hear the sigh escape her lips as she stops.  Once again, she empties the mostly empty cart into my almost full one.

“One, two….”

I feel badly for her.  I was only trying to be nice.  She has a hard job.  A lot of people shopping at Lowe’s are men, and they aren’t there because they get to do something fun.  They are there because something broke, or their wives have decided they want new shelves put up in the laundry.  It’s the weekend, and that means the projects are cutting into our football time. 

I look behind my wife at the other people in line, and there isn’t a smile to be had.  I look back at the checker, still counting.

“Wow.  No wonder you’re so grumpy…”

Ever feel the words coming out of your mouth, right as your brain tells you NOT to say it?

“Thanks, brain.  I know it NOW.”

It’s not even a sigh.  It’s a full-blown groan.

I’ve learned my lesson.  Not another word from me.

Just then, I hear the call come over the intercom.

“We need all available checkers to the front please.”

She was doing wonderfully, and was almost pleasant again as I heard her nearing the eighty mark.

“…76, 77…”

Then the beeping stopped.  I can see she is pressing the little trigger, but there are no beeps to be had.

She looked at me like it was my fault. 

I looked at her apologetically, and said, “guess you should have checked the battery on your scanner, huh?”

Okay, so I hadn’t learned my lesson.

I was happy to get out of there with my loot, and couldn’t wait to try it.

Think about it.  What an awesome time-saver.  And I’m 50.  I need all the time I can get.  No more middle of the night trips.  In fact, I’ll never have to go to the bathroom again.

Yeah, well…that night, the Emergency Room nurses were laughing too.  My wife was laughing so hard she could barely get the entire story out.  I thought that was pretty rude.  I had my head stuck in a little bucket, getting rid of everything I had eaten in the last six months, and they are all laughing at me.  

I think that may have been worse than dealing with the grumpy people at Lowe's.

FIRST RESPONDER

Reports out now show that Fort Worth Police Department is now reaching the ten minute mark on priority 1 calls. Priority 1 means there is an immediate threat to human life. So if you are being attacked in your home by an intruder, you can expect the police to show up in 9 minutes and 45 seconds.

**Please do NOT misunderstand this...I am extremely thankful for the police, and all that they do.  I thank God for them every day.**

But this report shows one thing:

YOU ARE THE FIRST RESPONDER

When you or your family are being threatened, YOU are the only one you can count on to defend yourself.

The police do a wonderful job. However, there are 20 officers for every 10,000 citizens. They can only do so much.

Should you find yourself being awakened in the middle of the night by someone kicking in your front door, you have a couple of options:

1. You can dial 911 and pray there is an officer rolling down your street at that exact moment

2. You can defend yourself

In 1996, the average was 12 seconds from the time a home invasion begins, and the moment you were faced with a deadly force decision. So the instant someone begins to kick your door in (or climb in a window), you have 12 seconds before you decide whether to pull the trigger or not.

So picture a police officer driving up your street. Even if he is sitting two houses down, the likelihood that he will make it to your house in time to stop you or your family from being injured or killed is slim. Count the seconds to yourself as you think about what has to happen.

You are startled from your sleep by a horrendous sound.

The stopwatch has started.

It takes you at least a second to convince yourself that the sound you heard is real, and not just a dream.

"Someone is breaking in" you think to yourself.

You waste at least a half-second trying to decide what to do as you shake the sleepy cobwebs from your brain.

"Call 911" you think and reach for your phone.

tick-tick

You unlock your phone, (we'll say you actually get it right the first time, even though you are still not fully functioning), and dial 911.

It rings.

tick-tick

"911, what is your emergency?"

You are relieved that they answered on the first ring.

"Yes, I live at....."

You have to give them your address, since you are likely on a cell phone.

"Someone just kicked my front door in, and I think they're in the house"

Your 12 seconds are up. You look up, and see a man (or two or three men) walking into your bedroom. One has a gun, and the other two have knives.

NOW what do you do?

I'm not going to try to talk to you about buying a gun for home defense, or getting your Concealed Handgun License so you can defend your family.

I just want you to realize that you may not be able to depend on the police during the few seconds you really need them.

Seat belts do a great job, but if you wait until you start to get into an accident before putting them on, it is too late.

The police will get there as soon as they can, but they will likely only be able to take a report about what happened.

What do you do to defend yourself?

Make no mistake...you are the first responder. It is up to you to defend your life, and the lives of your family. If you do not prepare now, you may simply become another statistic.

Why I Carry ALL The Time

My wife was teasing me one day a couple of years ago when I was in the kitchen with my gun on my hip.

"Do you really think you need that in here?" she asked. 

Yes.  Yes I do.

Obviously, I hope to be safer inside my own home than out somewhere at a restaurant.  But I read the news.  And I am on the internet enough to see what kind of world we are living in now.

I explained to her that if I am in the kitchen, and someone kicks in the door, my gun is on the other side of the house.  I may as well not even have one.  I have friends who say if that happened to them, they would remain calm and reason with the person.

If someone is willing to kick you door in when they know you are home, there is no reasoning to be had.  They are willing to commit a felony (they are likely armed, and that is not only breaking and entering, but armed robbery).  They are willing to do bodily harm to you.  And there are countless cases of people trying to reason with the intruder, and still winding up dead.  

The story below is of two women who were killed by men running from the police.  They were "safe" inside their homes.

========================================

Two Florida residents, a mother and daughter, were brutally murdered inside their home during a chance encounter with four armed and wanted men after they wound up at the home during a crime spree and police chase.

These men were on the run after robbing a pawn shop, and became trapped inside the residential development they happened upon during the chase. Abandoning their vehicle, they burst inside the home of 51-year-old Deborah Royal, and her mother 72-year-old Patricia Moran.

As police were setting up a perimeter around the home they believed the men went into, a vehicle came right through the garage door. Police fired at the vehicle before it quickly crashed.

Before the men tried to get away by ramming the garage door, they brutally murdered the two women inside their home. The women were simply inside their own home, and had no warning as to what was about to happen.

=========================================

Having a gun, and NOT having it on you is no help.  The link below is of a video where a man and two friends are killed in a home invasion at 7:30 AM.  

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vaBMV2BfwBc

You can watch the video from an MSNBC news story.  I WARN YOU -- it is graphic.  

The homeowner had suffered break in burglaries, and had installed hidden cameras inside his home.  

While he visits with his friends, a man comes to the back door, pointing a gun at him.  Once inside, he hits the homeowner with the gun, and beats him while he is on the ground.  The women are tied up while the thugs rummage through the home.  

The homeowner owned a gun.  But it was in the bedroom.  He owned a CHL, and didn't feel a need to carry at home.  

With the homeowner's own gun from the bedroom, one of the intruders shoots all three victims in the head.  (He missed one of the women, but they are all three shot again by the first gunman).   

These things happen.  If you own a gun, please keep it on you, even at home.  There are bad people everywhere.  

Don't be another victim.

Thou, Oh LORD Are a Shield For Me

Yesterday was one of “those days”. 

The day before yesterday, during lunch, I was going through some of my old file folders and cleaning up.  I came across a folder of old choir songs.  I created a playlist for them, so I could listen to them while I’m playing with my square pegs. 

Yesterday, I was frustrated for a myriad of reasons.  Actually, frustration doesn't accurately describe how I was feeling.  I was far past frustrated.  I felt angry.  I cried out to God, even though I certainly did not feel like praying.  Most of you know that feeling.  You need help, but you’re angry and frustrated, and don’t want to pray.

How dumb is that? 

It’s like having a car that has a grinding sound from the engine, but instead of getting it to a mechanic, who can diagnose and fix it, we would rather just be angry and complain.

But I began praying (which can be interpreted as angrily griping about my situation).  Thank you, God, for being such a loving, patient Father to your spoiled little children.

As I was praying, I felt the still small voice tell me to listen to some music, and keep working on the square pegs.  So I did what any “good” Christian who desires to serve and honor his Father does.  I continued to complain.  I did not “feel like” listening to music.

After a moment, I gave up, and opened Media Player on my computer.  There were my playlists:

·         Choir

·         Bible (the entire Bible in audio format)

·         Country

·         Rock (exactly what it sounds like)

·         Uplifting (Contemporary Christian music)

If I was going to listen to anything, I was in the mood for rock.  But I found myself kicking off the Choir list.

And the music started.

Still angry…

Still frustrated…

Still didn’t want to listen to anything, much less Choir songs…

Thou, Oh Lord

Many are they increased that troubled me
Many are they that rise up against me
Many there be which say of my soul
There is no help for him in God

But Thou, oh Lord are a shield for me
My glory and the lifter of my head
Thou, oh Lord are a shield for me
My glory and the lifter of my head

I cried unto the Lord with my voice
And he heard me out of His holy hill
I laid me down and slept and awaked
For the Lord sustained, for he sustained me

Thou, oh Lord are a shield for me
My glory and the lifter of my head
Thou, oh Lord are shield for me
My glory and the lifter of my head

I soon found myself singing along. 

Music speaks to me in a way the spoken word never will.  And there were so many songs I loved singing in choir.  This was close to the top of the list.  As I silently sang my way through the song, I began to tear up as I hit the bridge.

I cried unto the Lord with my voice
And he heard me out of His holy hill
I laid me down and slept and awaked
For the Lord sustained, for he sustained me

And for some reason, I began to feel peace…

After the song ended, I played it again.  As the song neared the same spot, I felt it even stronger.  As I was crying to the LORD with my voice, He heard me.  And He was telling me that He would sustain me. 

I can’t explain the peace of God.  I don’t often feel it this strongly.  Deep inside, I know everything will be okay.  But in the midst of trials, I too often feel alone, and abandoned.  His word promises me I will never be that.  Ever.  This was one time He chose to sooth my anger with His gentle peace almost immediately.

If you have experienced that peace before, then you understand what I’m talking about.  If you haven’t, I could try all day to explain it, and you still wouldn't truly understand.

I don’t deserve for the God of all creation to take the time to worry about my little problems.  And please understand what I’m saying.  When He does, it has absolutely NOTHING to do with me being worth anything.  It is always ALL about His unfailing love.  His mercy.  His grace.  Why He chooses to bestow it on my during the times I’m most unlovable is something I will never understand this side of heaven. 

But I’ll gladly take it any time He chooses to give it.

No idea what I’m talking about? 

For God so loved the world….

You’ve all heard it…most of you can quote it.  

But do you believe it?  And does it make a difference in your life?

Ship of Fools

At 8 PM Monday night, April 7th, 2014, a man walked into a police station in Los Angeles and opened fire on two officers.  One officer was hit seven times, but both he and the female officer returned fire, hitting the suspect several times. 

The officer is said to be in good condition, and the gunman was critical.  No one else was injured.

Scary moments to be sure.  But let's compare that with another incident that happened last week.

On Wednesday, April 2nd, 2014, Ivan Lopez walked into an administrative building in Fort Hood, and opened fire.  Four people were killed and sixteen wounded.

That followed less than five years after Nidal Hasan (I'll refrain from using the title "Major", as he certainly dishonored his rank) killed thirteen, and injured more than thirty others.

What is the difference in the Fort Hood shootings, and the Los Angeles police station shooting?

Common sense. 

As soon as the two officers in Los Angeles realized what was happening, they took action.  They returned fire, incapacitated the gunman, and ended the incident.

As soon as the soldiers at Fort Hood realized what was happening, all they could do is run and hide, and wait for someone to come help them. 

Men and women, who we have trained to be the best in the world were defenseless.  Those we arm, and send into harm's way to defend third world countries when needed, were unable to defend their own lives on a military base here in our own country.  Men and women who are more than capable of dealing with armed suspects intent on killing, were unable to do anything until Military Police arrived.

How stupid is this?

They are trained to defend our country, and we will not let them carry weapons on our bases here at home. 

Similar circumstances:

1.  Two officers versus one gunman.  One officer injured; gunman incapacitated.

2.  Dozens of United States soldiers versus one gunman.  Thirteen killed, more than thirty wounded.  Gunman shot and paralyzed, but still very much alive.

3.  Again, dozens of United States soldiers versus one gunman.  Four killed, and sixteen wounded.  Gunman took his own life.

Let's paint a different picture. 

Nidal Hasan walks in the building that morning in 2009, intending to kill as many soldiers as he can.  Yet, as he pulls his weapon and readies himself to kill, others in the room see what's happening, and draw their weapons.  Yes, he may have killed one or two, but then would have quickly found the justice he certainly deserved.  No long court battles.  No news stories about how many millions are being spent to provide food, shelter and transportation for Hasan.

What if Ivan Lopez had met the same resistance?  He pulls his gun, and gets off a couple of rounds before others take him out?

And before you get on to me for not being compassionate, let me explain.

I know they are saying Lopez had some mental issues after serving overseas.  I'm not saying he didn't deserve to get help.  What I am saying is, the other innocent people deserved to go home to their families that night.  If we had equipped the soldiers to do the job we expect them to do, and have trained them to do, the outcome would have been very different.

And it may be easy to look at the situation and feel a little safer.  After all, it was on a military base, and the majority of us do not live there.  But what if he had somehow taken a weapon from that base, and used it to attack the city of Killen, killing dozens?  Would we then argue that we shouldn't have those weapons on our military bases?

It's been said a hundred times.  Guns don't kill people.  People kill people.  And until we understand that the evil is not in the tool, but in the holder of that tool, we will continue to suffer.

Let's arm the men and women of our military.  We let them carry weapons when they are protecting other countries.  Let's tell them that their lives are worth as much as citizens in a country halfway across the world.  Let them do what they were trained to do.

May God bless all who proudly serve.  And may we proudly stand behind them.

 

48

So I turned 48 yesterday.

I guess it's normal to think about your life when you turn older.  SO many years to review.

On one hand, Facebook has made our world a lot smaller.  People I haven't seen in 40 years are suddenly part of life again.  Those who I was friends with in high school that I haven’t seen since then are friends again.  I may never see some of them again, but I can keep up with their lives, and they can keep up with mine.

On the other hand, life has, over the years, started to fly by with increasing dizziness.  

I remember being a kid, waiting on Christmas.  It took forever for it to get there.  In a matter of seconds it seemed it was over.  

Now, all of life seems that way.  Here I am in 2014.  How could this have happened?

I sent my wife an E-card on her anniversary of her job.  She started in 2001.  So, naturally, I congratulated her on her 12th year.  She corrected me.  And, as I started to correct her, I counted.  

Yep...12 years.  Oh wait....it's 2014....

How is it that a memory from something that seems like it was just a couple of years ago, is suddenly 20 or 30 years old?

Looking back over my life, I see times that were fun and gave me times of happiness.  Thank you to my brother, Stuart for so many of those.  Thank you to DeWayne (Bubba as he was known) for several others.  

There were many less than happy times as well.  

But through it all, I know I am who I am, and where I am because of all of the good (and bad) times.  So I have to be thankful, even for the bad times, for helping me get to where I am.

So many friends have come and gone.  So many others are currently sharing my life.  All of them have made this life what it is.

In spite of everything, it is a good life.  

There are times I get frustrated.  There are times I'm sad.  There are times I get irritated and angry.  So many times I wish people wouldn't act the way they do, or say the things they say.  But overall, I have a truly blessed life.  And I'm thankful for so many people that God has brought into my life to help me grow along the way.  It hasn't always been pleasant, but I have to be thankful for all of it.

So as I begin another year, thank you everyone.  For whatever it was you did with me, to me, or for me, throughout my life.  You have helped, willingly or not, to make life a wonderfully blessed experience.

Copper Trays and Moon-Monster

A random memory crossed my mind the other day while watching someone walk through a parking lot, pointing their iPad around the lot.  I assume they were videoing their walk to the car, but I'm not really sure why. 

It struck me as funny until the following memory came back. 

I'm not sure how old I was when I started, but I vividly remember recreating the scene when I was an older teenager.  I think I wanted to remember how much fun it was, or maybe to try to remember what it was that made it fun in the first place.

We had a polished copper tray when I was growing up.  My older brother, Stuart, discovered if you carried the tray while walking, you could look into the tray, and it reflected the ceiling.  It gave an illusion of walking on the ceiling; which for a child was quite entertaining.  At least for this child, it was.  We had a cathedral ceiling in the living room, and it was quite funny watching Stuart reach the edge of the dining room, and lift his foot to step over the drop before falling up (down?) to the ceiling above...below.............??  I'm sure I looked even funnier.

Keep in mind, (those of you born after 1980), we didn't have video games at that age.  When I was older, I got Pong for Christmas.  Google it, and laugh at how "sad" our lives were.  If we wanted to play, we had to use our imaginations.  I'm sure at some point, I said, "I'm bored," but I never remember that.  One of the reasons for that is my brother, Stuart. 

He was great at inventing games.  We bowled with tennis balls and empty toilet paper rolls in the bedroom hall; smashed Lego cars to see who could build the most indestructible one (guess who won that one); and he invented a clever, evil game to play at night.

One of us would start in the kitchen, and the other in the bedroom.  All of the lights in the house were turned out, and we would slowly start walking toward each other.  The purpose was to scare the other one.  (Guess who always won that game, too).  Obviously, that one was played when we were alone. 

Then there was Moon-Monster, which was an outside game.  One person has a tennis ball, soccer ball, etc., and they are "it".  They yell freeze, and everyone else has to stop.  They throw it at someone, and if they hit them, that person picks up the ball.  Everyone else can run away from the ball until the person picks it up and yells, "Freeze!".  If the thrower misses, he has to run and get the ball while everyone else runs from it.  We usually played that on the side of the house.  Once, we played in our neighbors back yard, where he had mowed paths in the uncut grass, so you had to stay on the path.

I have said often that I would not go back to those days for anything.  There were so many heavy things going on that I would never want to re-live.  But I also remember the fun times, and the silly things we did to entertain ourselves. 

I don't often thank people enough for the things they have done.  I'm sure I would not have made it without Stuart.  Teaching me how to "cook" Ravioli and SpaghettiOs, inventing games to keep me from getting bored and fat, and just being there for me helped keep me going.  I would say sane, but those who know me know I lost that battle long ago.

So thank you, Stuart.  For finding fun in a copper tray.  For finding interesting things to do when there was nothing available but an empty yard and a ball.  For teaching me things I needed to know to take care of myself.  And for always being there for me when I needed you.

I love you.

Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I set you apart; I appointed you as a prophet to the nations. – Jeremiah 1:5

So God created mankind in His own image, in the image of God he created them; male and female He created them. – Genesis 1:27

I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made. – Psalm 139:14

A man’s heart plans his way, but the Lord directs his steps. – Proverbs 16:9

How often have we looked in the mirror, and decided we weren’t happy with what we saw?  How often have we told God we aren’t happy with who we are?  How many times have we grumbled that we didn’t have the gifts someone else had?  How many times have we felt inferior because we didn’t think we were good enough; smart enough; strong enough?

All power rests in God’s hands.  He certainly could have made me 6’4” handsome, strong and smart.  But He (in His infinite wisdom that I too often distrust or second guess) created me to be exactly what I am.  I have spent a lot of time over my life wondering what it would be like to be different.  To have the strength I wish I had.  To be smarter that I am.  To be taller, better looking, more outgoing, etc.  Yet I get out of bed most mornings, struggle to get through a day, and wish things were different.

But where would I be? 

Maybe in a nicer house, with less money issues, a better job, etc. 

But if I were not exactly who I am (and who I have been, where I have been, when I have been there), the blessings I have been given may have been missed.

I wouldn’t trade all I have wished I were for what I have now.

Thank you, God, for making me who I am.  Help me to hear your voice; feel your presence, and trust your spirit.  Make me who you have created me to be.  Erase all of what I think I should be, or wish I were.  Thank you for the gifts I have.  Help me to use them the way you intended.  Make this New Year a year of following you closer than I ever have.  Living for you, as you guide my steps to make a difference in the world through me and my life.

Bruce Cameron

If you are unfamiliar with Bruce Cameron, you need to check him out. 

He has been one of my favorite columnists for more than ten years now.  I don't remember how I originally found him, but his humor is much like mine.  And he has written several dog books now which thrill me.  I'm an animal lover, and dogs are at the top of my list.

His newest one, available now, is The Dogs of Christmas.  I haven't read it yet, but I'm looking forward to it.

If you love dogs, humor, fun, and just enjoy life in general, you should really check him out.

http://www.brucecameron.com/

There, you can find out about him, his books, and sign up for his emails, find links to his Facebook pages, etc.

Veteran's Day 2013

Veteran's Day is the one day a year we honor those who have fought so hard to protect the freedoms we enjoy.  Too often, we take our freedom for granted.  And we should remember EVERY day those who have given so much for us.

I'm truly thankful for so many men and women who have sacrificed so much to allow me to live the life I live.  Men and women who leave home, family and friends, to live wherever they are told to. 

I complain that my bed is not comfortable enough.  When there are those who sleep in foxholes so I can sleep in my bed in safety.

I gripe about our electric bill being too high.  And there are men and women wearing heavy bulletproof vests under their uniforms, carrying 80 lb. backpacks in 120 degree heat.  They do this so I can sit on my couch, watching television and enjoying my air conditioner.

I get upset when someone cuts me off in traffic.  There are those who are targets.  Every day they worry about sniper's bullets, or IEDs. 

God forgive me for not showing my appreciation more every day for those who have given so much for me. 

This Veteran's Day has even more meaning to me, as my son is currently in Navy school.  In the coming years, he will live his life on a submarine, patrolling the waters of this world.  He has decided to make this world a safer place. 

Thank you, God for men and women like Chase.  Those who realize we will not have the freedoms we have without being willing to fight for them.  Bless our troops and their families.  Watch over them and protect them as they serve.  And help us to always be thankful for those willing to serve. 

The following is a video that speaks volumes to me.  It has been shared many times in the past few years. 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AgYLr_LfhLo

Thank you to veteran's families, who visit a cemetery on this day.  Thank you to veteran's who have served in the past.  And thank you to those who are currently serving.

God bless you.

What An Honor

Saturday, July 20th, 2013 started normally enough.  The dogs were awake, ready for breakfast, and then to go defend the yard from dangerous squirrels and birds.  I was a little nervous and anxious.  My son, Chase and I were scheduled to take our P2 test in Krav Maga.  While we both felt we were ready, there are so many things to remember.  And we knew it was going to be at least a couple of hours of intense testing. 

We both passed our P1 tests earlier in the year.  Mine was at the end of January, and his was in February.  He was originally scheduled to take his in January, and came down with the flu, including 102-degree fever the morning of the test.  I may have been as disappointed as he was that we were unable to test together.  Krav has been something we have enjoyed together, and it has been a great bonding experience. 

We began the test on Saturday at around 9:15.  I thought there may have been a couple of other people there that morning, but as it turned out, our instructor was the only other one there.  In hindsight, it was somehow better that way.  More individualized...more private...more intimate...more special.  Working our way through the entire P1 curriculum was “fairly easy".  Sometime a little before 11:00, we began P2. 

As I type this on Monday at lunch, my forearms, my shoulders, my knees, my back, and even my eyebrows hurt.  Okay, maybe not the eyebrows. 

After three hours in a small, stuffy room, the test was over.  Steve, our instructor, gave us points on what we needed to remember, some things to focus on to improve, and where we did well.  We left; both exhausted, and pretty well spent for the rest of the day.  But we had passed.

BTW -- Steve is an incredible instructor.  He cares about teaching Krav, and he cares about his students.  It is not enough to him to teach the technique.  He wants to know you know why it works.  And he takes the time to show you how to do it better.  What works for him may not work for me.  (I am quite a bit smaller).  Check us out at http://www.legacykravmaga.com. 

What an incredible honor it was to test with him.  We have a few bruises, and I think I busted his lip accidentally.  But to test with him, and accomplish this together was an awesome experience.  It has been wonderful to have this time with Chase.  I say "has been" because in just over a week, he will leave for the Navy.  For the past two years, he has lived with me.  Krav has given us something that we can work together on, discuss, hurt each other a little, and bond with each other. 

As I write this, my eyes begin to tear because I know he will soon be gone.  It is sadness and joy.  It is watching a child become a man.  It is watching someone who was pretty well at the depths of his life a couple of years ago, coming through it, and making the world a better place.  There are not a lot of things in my life that I am proud of.  But when I look at my son, I am proud.  Not because of anything I have done, but because of the man he has become. 

We were talking about next week, and he said he did not want us to be emotional when he swears in.  Good luck with that.  It may be something he understands in another thirty years or so.  I certainly do not claim any credit for Chase being the man he has become.  His life has always been in God's hands.  

Thank you, God, for loving Chase enough to bring him through the trials, and make him someone I am so very proud of.  Thank you for allowing me to be a part of his life.  And please watch over him and protect him in (and out) of the Navy. 

Chase, thank you for never giving up.  I know there were times you wanted to.  Times you just "knew" life was not worth it.  But you have proven yourself wrong.  No matter what comes ahead; no matter how tough life becomes; remember what you have come through.  Whatever it is, whatever it takes...

You can do it.

I love you.


I am proud of you.

 

Am I Prepared?

It was a Tuesday afternoon, and my wife was meeting friends after work for dinner. Both our son and daughter were at work, so I was the first to arrive home.

We have two rescued dogs who tend to get into stuff when they are bored, so we keep them closed out of the bedrooms when we’re gone during the day. Opening the front door, they did not greet me in their usual manner. In fact, they were greeting me from the bedroom. I double-checked the driveway, thinking maybe I just had not seen my daughter’s car.

I walked down the hallway toward the bedroom, and found our bedroom door closed. Not completely, but enough to keep them from nosing their way out. I dismissed it, thinking my wife just had not pulled it completely closed when she left. It was odd for her, but certainly possible.

 

Letting the dogs outside, I also noticed the bottom drawer of her jewelry armoire was halfway opened. The younger dog is certainly curious enough to paw the drawer open, especially if she thinks it may contain food, or a racquetball, which is her favorite toy. Standing on the patio, waiting for the dogs to do their business, I turned, and suddenly saw something that twisted my gut.

Just to the left of the doorknob on our French door was a softball-sized hole. The entire glass door was spider-webbed. Suddenly, the entire scene repeated itself…the open bedroom door, and the open jewelry armoire drawer…and the fact that I had just walked through the house unprepared.

 

 

We moved into our current house five and a half years ago. The neighborhood is decent enough, although there are some lower-rent duplexes just a couple of blocks away. In spite of that, we have never put a gate on our lock because there was never a need. One time, several months ago, someone got into my son’s car when it was parked in the street. It had been unlocked, and they only stole some change, so it was not serious. However, we had never had any issues where we felt in danger in any way.

I have been a CHL holder for a few years now, and was carrying at the time. But suddenly, I was hit with the realization that I may walk back into the house to face an intruder, or two. I was carrying my S&W .40, but inside were my .12 gauge shotgun and a 9 mm handgun. All of the stories you hear on the news could potentially describe my situation.

 

 

 

I also knew at any moment, my son and or daughter might be coming home. I pulled my gun, and put one in the chamber. I had fourteen shots, and feel I am proficient with the Sigma. However, I could be facing seven shots of 9 mm and five shotgun blasts. I said a quick prayer, and entered the bedroom again, holding my firearm out, ready for battle.

 

 

A quick glance told me my shotgun was undisturbed. One down; one to go. The dogs came back in after me, but were not barking, which gave me a little peace. Quickly making my way to the Kel-Tec, it was just as I had left it.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

Refusing to get complacent, I continued making my way through the entire house, checking every closet, under the beds, and the garage. My dogs and I were alone.

Making my way to the back door, I saw both the knob and the deadbolt locked.

Maybe no one came in,I thought. Maybe it was just someone throwing something from another backyard.

Finding a rock in the living room, thirty feet from the back door negated that hope.

I walked next door, to a neighbor who is home frequently during the day. It was a shot in the dark, (so to speak), but maybe he had seen, or heard something. As we were talking, a Sheriff’s Deputy who lives a few houses down drove by in his cruiser. I flagged him down, and he looked at the damage.

“Someone definitely tried to get in,” he said.

I told him I had briefly looked through the jewelry, and nothing appeared to be missing. We thought at the time the dogs may have prevented them from entering. It was not until later we found some things were missing, and others have been disturbed.

I called the police, and was told they could send someone by, but it would be awhile. As I waited, I cleaned up what I could, and replayed what had happened. One question kept coming to my mind:

Had I been prepared for a confrontation?

Thankfully, that question was not answered in a physical way that afternoon. Yes, I was armed. And yes, I feel proficient. In addition, I have studied Krav Maga for a while to learn to defend myself and my family. But I potentially faced more than one attacker, and possibly more than one gun. Was my knowledge, or my gun, enough?

We have all read stories about criminal encounters, and people interrupting burglaries. We live in a world where evil is always ready to invade our quiet, peaceful lives. Violence does not need a reason to destroy our world, and turn our lives upside down. That is exactly the reason I carry. I want to know that wherever I am, and whatever may happen, I am at least able to increase my chances of survival.

And I ask again:

Was I prepared for a confrontation?

Reading this, you may think I was. I have gone over it dozens of times. Entering the house the second time, I believe I was. However, I walked in the first time,completely unprepared for anything. If someone had met me by the front door, I would have been taken by surprise, and they would have had the upper hand. As soon as I saw that the dogs were not at the door, and verified my daughter was not yet home, I should have pulled my gun.

The preparation I had before entering the second time did not happen by accident. And it did not happen because I bought a gun, or even because I have a license to carry. It took a lot to get to that point.

How do you pass a physics test in school? You study. You do not go buy a physics book, and put it on your shelf, and decide you know physics. You do not sign up for a physics class, and attend once or twice. You read the book; you learn the formulas; you ask questions; and you go over it and over it until youknow it.

If you have made the decision to carry a firearm, I applaud you…if you are doing it for the right reason, and in the right way. Do not get a license so you can be “cool” because you can carry a gun. If you want to be able to protect yourself, your family, and the innocent people around you, that is awesome. However, even that is not enough. You need to spend time on the range, learning to draw and shoot your weapon. Can you hit a target consistently? Under stress?

If you take a martial art, or some other form of self-defense, that’s great. But are you doing it so you can say, “I know Karate?” Or are you doing it to learn to defend yourself, hoping you will never have to actually use it? And do you just attend class once or twice a week so you can say you “do” it? Do you study and practice outside of class?

I recently saw a posting on a school board close to our house. It read:

“Do not study until you get it right. Study until you cannot get it wrong.”

I am very thankful I was not actually put to the test that afternoon a couple of weeks ago. It was just enough of a shock to make me realize how close I may have come to a horrible situation. Had I walked in on someone, it could have become very ugly very fast.

Every time you drive, I hope you wear your seatbelt. If you don’t, you are being foolish. No one expects to have an accident. But if you are ever in one, you will not have time to put your belt on. No one expects to face an intruder in your home, or on the streets. However, if you ever do, you need to have prepared ahead of time.

Have a defense, or two…or three. Do not leave them on the shelf. Use them; learn them; practice them;know them…until you can’t get it wrong.