Topics of Christian Faith - Infinite Love2024-03-29T09:13:34Zhttp://ashford-edu651.ning.com/forum/categories/topics-of-christian-faith/listForCategory?feed=yes&xn_auth=noBlessed beyond measure 8/25/19tag:ashford-edu651.ning.com,2024-02-19:4171967:Topic:512072024-02-19T21:33:26.591ZBrad Foxhttp://ashford-edu651.ning.com/profile/BradFox
<div><div class="" dir="auto"><div class="x1iorvi4 x1pi30zi x1l90r2v x1swvt13" id=":r10t:"><div class="x78zum5 xdt5ytf xz62fqu x16ldp7u"><div class="xu06os2 x1ok221b"><div class="xdj266r x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs x126k92a"><div dir="auto">I was blessed beyond measure today.</div>
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<div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a"><div dir="auto">Jesus said "Give, and it will be given to you. A good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over, will be…</div>
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<div><div class="" dir="auto"><div class="x1iorvi4 x1pi30zi x1l90r2v x1swvt13" id=":r10t:"><div class="x78zum5 xdt5ytf xz62fqu x16ldp7u"><div class="xu06os2 x1ok221b"><div class="xdj266r x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs x126k92a"><div dir="auto">I was blessed beyond measure today.</div>
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<div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a"><div dir="auto">Jesus said "Give, and it will be given to you. A good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over, will be poured into your lap. For with the measure you use, it will be measured to you.” Luke 6:38</div>
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<div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a"><div dir="auto">I took my disabled brother Kim to see Lion King tonight after he'd come home from 7 weeks of hospital stay and skilled nursing recuperation. It was good to be back to "normal" with him and I could tell that he really enjoyed himself. <span><a></a></span>It made my day to see him restored to his former happiness!</div>
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<div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a"><div dir="auto">As we stepped out of the auditorium I checked my phone for messages and this is what I got:</div>
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<div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a"><div dir="auto">"Hey Mr.Fox! I don't know if you remember me but I took your 7th grade science class back in 2007. I start my first gross anatomy class tomorrow at Tufts School of Dental Medicine and Its making me reminisce of how I got to where I am. I just wanted to thank you for how much of an impact you made in my life. I will never forget that first evolution lesson with binder clips and marbles! Thank you again and I hope everything is going well."</div>
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<div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a"><div dir="auto">No sooner had we left the theater and walked to a nearby restaurant but a young man named Roy stepped up to greet me and recall that he had me as a student teacher in Don Thomas' 5th grade class at Live Oak school (1992). He praised me for a book that I taught the class. He said he'd never forgotten the lessons from that book!</div>
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<div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a"><div dir="auto">I had started the day (after church) in a meeting with one of my youth group "girls" who is now a young mother and wife and a professional social worker. I believe that she was in youth group in about the late 90's or shortly thereafter. She taught me about resources for homeless people for the better part of 90 minutes. I was so gratified to see how far she has come in her life. I was honored to be her student!</div>
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<div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a"><div dir="auto">In the afternoon I visited a prospective elder care home for brother Kim. The owner/operator is a lovely, God-loving woman with an absolutely spectacular home that may be a perfect fit for him to live independent of me. It is an answer to prayer!</div>
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<div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a"><div dir="auto">Then I was privileged to give a testimony in our church prayer group about the importance of my pastor's work in my own life. I</div>
<div dir="auto">read a heartfelt letter about all he has inspired me to do, and all he has helped me through. It was my chance to bless him for all the blessings he has poured into me over several decades of life.</div>
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<div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a"><div dir="auto">Blessings from students returning after many years (1992,1999, 2007). The chance to bless my brother. The chance to bless my pastor. All within one day.</div>
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<div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a"><div dir="auto">It's true. God really does overflow and "pack down" our blessings. This was a day where God's word once again came alive in my life.</div>
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<div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a"><div dir="auto">Thank you for blessing me God; beyond measure!</div>
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</div> Poverty Volunteertag:ashford-edu651.ning.com,2019-05-28:4171967:Topic:187012019-05-28T15:48:07.500ZBrad Foxhttp://ashford-edu651.ning.com/profile/BradFox
<p><img alt="Image result for god talking to cain" class="align-center" height="306" src="https://thejaggedworddotcom.files.wordpress.com/2014/08/cain-and-abel.jpg" width="258"></img></p>
<p>God speaking to Cain: “Where is your brother?”</p>
<p>Cain’s reply: “Am I my brother’s keeper?”</p>
<p>Silence. </p>
<p> <a href="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2704551859?profile=original" rel="noopener" target="_blank"><img class="align-center" height="270" src="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2704551859?profile=RESIZE_710x" width="377"></img></a></p>
<p>Jesus’ question of the expert in the law after telling the story of the Good Samaritan: “<span>Which of these three do you think was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of…</span></p>
<p><img src="https://thejaggedworddotcom.files.wordpress.com/2014/08/cain-and-abel.jpg" alt="Image result for god talking to cain" width="258" height="306" class="align-center"/></p>
<p>God speaking to Cain: “Where is your brother?”</p>
<p>Cain’s reply: “Am I my brother’s keeper?”</p>
<p>Silence. </p>
<p> <a href="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2704551859?profile=original" target="_blank" rel="noopener"><img src="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2704551859?profile=RESIZE_710x" class="align-center" width="377" height="270"/></a></p>
<p>Jesus’ question of the expert in the law after telling the story of the Good Samaritan: “<span>Which of these three do you think was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of robbers?”</span></p>
<p><span>The expert in the law replied, “The one who had mercy on him.”</span></p>
<p><span>Jesus told him, </span><span>“Go and do likewise.”</span></p>
<p><span> </span></p>
<p><span>My first intentional experiences with the homeless began in Ensenada, Mexico, while on a youth mission trip in 2005 with high school students from my church. We had been visiting a tourist attraction on the coast where I encountered a homeless Mexican man asking for money. I asked if I could buy him lunch instead, and he agreed to the offer. Spontaneously, several of the youth arrived to observe the situation. They were absorbed with knowing about this man’s situation as they had never encountered a homeless person before. I translated for him, telling the students that he lived nearby and was homeless because he couldn’t find work and hadn’t been able to do so for quite some time. We invited him to ride with us back to the field where he lived, and the students were eager to pray over him as he exited the van. </span></p>
<p><span> </span></p>
<p><span>This experience changed the entire focus of the mission trip. Typically, we had presented a Vacation Bible School experience for the children in a small barrio surrounding a neighborhood church and performed construction jobs for that church and neighboring homes. Now, the students themselves generated a brown-bag lunch program for the homeless and set up teams who each day would drive to the town center, search out homeless folks and gift them with lovingly prepared lunches. </span></p>
<p><span>One evening, as we finished eating at one of the fish taco stands down by the water, we decided to stroll the tourist zone adjacent to the harbor looking for souvenirs and fire crackers, a taboo in the U.S. but an delightful pastime in Mexico. Since it was Valentine’s Day weekend, one of the boys had decided to do something lovely for the girls, so he bought a long-stemmed red rose for each one. The girls were thrilled and each one treasured her special flower. As we walked, we encountered an older man (Eusebio) standing in one of the darkened vestibules of a closed shop. The students encouraged me to engage him as they thought he might possibly be a homeless person. Being the only Spanish speaker in the group, I asked his name and other basic questions about his background. He too had been underemployed for many years, lost touch with his family and was a stranger in this town. The students were intrigued. They wanted me to ask him if he needed food and he replied that indeed he was hungry. We agreed to feed him whatever he wanted at the local McDonald’s and we did. Even though the students could not directly speak to him, he was able to “read” the expressions of love on their faces. Escorting him back to the storefront where we had found him, one of the girls, Branche, offered him her rose as a token of love and support. And she asked if she could hug him.</span></p>
<p> </p>
<p>Understand, I was the only one able to translate between Eusebio and the kids. He responded to me in his native Spanish that he would indeed welcome her gesture of touch because he <em><u>hadn’t been touched</u></em> <em><u>by another person for 25 years</u></em>! </p>
<p><sup> </sup></p>
<p>In the brief seconds it took me to formulate my translation, I realized the impact of her words on him, and the impact his words would have on them. It was a sacred moment, to say the least. I felt as if I was an electrical cable conducting 50,000 volts of love!</p>
<p> </p>
<p>When I told them his response, it literally took the breath out of all of us, and we proceeded to melt into the sidewalk in a puddle mixed with sadness and joy! Branche did in fact hug him in a way that I’m sure made up for those lost 25 years. The other students joined in the hug fest as well. We were all overwhelmed with the experience. Later, we said our goodbyes as the hour was late, but the students pledged to never forget Eusebio and to work to help people like him when we returned home. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Later that year (2005) I decided to investigate the possibility of leading church youth trips to the San Diego city downtown area in order to meet more homeless people and to learn more about their lives and struggles to survive. I collaborated with the City of Refuge mission agency to arrange 24-hour weekend trips for this purpose. Typically, I would meet students after school on a Friday and we would drive to the East Village or courthouse/jail districts to engage the homeless in conversation. We had previously prepared 1-gallon bags of hygiene supplies to give away and use as a kind of introduction for ourselves as well as a conversation starter. We learned much about the homelessness issue from our times on the streets. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Talking to folks, we were able to associate a face, a name and a life with homelessness. Sometimes we felt like we weren’t getting through; like we were just talking to the alcohol or substance coursing through their veins. Other times we were regaled with wonderful life stories of struggle, fleeting victories and grinding defeats. We learned that some of our new friends were homeless because of job losses, divorce or other relational difficulties, medical issues, finances, mental illness, learning disabilities and struggles with addiction. At times we had to listen to contrived stories of fame, shame, fortune and destruction. We never were able to get a word in edgewise and had to uncomfortably excuse ourselves. We were preached to. We had blessings conferred upon us. We blessed them. During the week of the Ferguson shooting, we had two young black men come up to us and ask for prayers. They didn’t want to divulge why they needed the prayer, but they said that our words and kindness had drawn them to us. As we talked and shared life with the homeless on San Diego’s streets, we marveled at so called “drive by” missionaries who faithfully passed out sandwiches and water each weekend, but never sat down to learn “from” and “with” them. We also noticed the Friday night revelers transiting our area to get to the Gaslamp eateries and entertainment venues. Those well-dressed patrons avoided our eyes and those of our homeless friends. It gave us a feel for how ignored and forgotten a person can be in our society.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>One of the most impactful statements I have ever heard about homelessness was delivered by an older San Diego woman by the name of Bernice. Sitting on the sidewalk next to her, I tried to learn about her circumstances and understand another piece of the homeless puzzle. As a standard opening line, I asked “How long have you been homeless?” She responded that she wasn’t homeless; she was houseless! She pointed out several of her friends resting nearby who are her “home.” For her, people provide an essential sheltering of love, protection and support which surpassed anything a house can confer. I have never forgotten that perspective and it informs everything I do in my work for the homeless. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Fast forwarding 12 years, I became involved with the homelessness situation in my own hometown of Fallbrook. Two of my fellow church members came to me with questions about how to help a particular homeless person or address the homelessness situation in general. I didn’t have an answer for them, even though I was the resident homelessness “authority” on campus. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Then came the Hepatitis A epidemic in the fall of 2017. Wanting to do what I could for my community, and feeling the threat of contamination on my San Diego trips, I sought out help from County agencies on obtaining a porta-potty and handwashing station for an area of town which was home to a majority of our homeless folks. The County was very eager to help and offered to install said equipment. But when their engineers showed up to find a site for positioning the equipment, they were told by a community leader that “you need to pack up and leave because you didn’t consult us first about installing it!” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Now as a biologist with cellular lab experience, I have an appreciation for and an intimate knowledge of viral infections, I couldn’t understand how a person in their right mind could consider rejecting physical help in the face of an epidemic. So, I asked myself, “who speaks for Fallbrook?” It has become an all-consuming quest for me as I moved on to the next part of my work with the homeless. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>In the winter of 2017 I convened a team of 8 people from my church who had expressed some interest in establishing a ministry to help the homeless. We called ourselves the Fallbrook Homeless Advocacy. We were “babes in the woods” except for the clarity of Scripture which made it obvious that we were commanded to love others. As we transitioned into the spring of 2018, some of us joined the Alliance for Regional Solutions which is a consortium of 9 North County cities and agencies who are working to address homelessness issues. We attended conferences and committee meetings. We participated. We visited homeless food bank, feeding and shelter programs of churches and non-profits. We visited a homeless shower trailer program and started raising money for our own. We read and shared homelessness literature. We participated in a homelessness simulation hosted by SD County which taught us about the frustrations and hopelessness of being homeless and poor. We set up a social media account and started to engage the community in helping specific individuals in town who showed some willingness to rehabilitate their lives. We set up educational tables at a community event. We continued to meet and challenge each other with new ideas. And we visited and talked with the homeless on their own turf.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>In early 2018 we started a homeless outreach event held every third Friday of the month where we provide good, clean used clothing, hot food, hygiene packs, sleeping bags, and blankets and offer haircuts, prayer, counseling and case management through the McAlister Institute. Just recently, we traveled to observe a successful transitional housing program in Riverside County. There we learned about the material, regulatory, financial, programmatic and relational set-up of such a housing program. Subsequent to that observation, one of our contacts offered to buy a house for us in Fallbrook that we could use to shelter our own homeless without assigning them to life away from their hometown. We are currently in the process of furnishing that house and screening potential candidates for housing here. Our first homeless male tenant just spent the night there yesterday. One of our team members is considering opening up a women’s shelter with her own resources. It is an exciting time!</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The fundamental core of our program is spending time and sharing life with homeless folks to let them know that we care and are invested in their success. Our work is mainly about establishing relationship so that we can build trust with homeless folks over time. From there we can help them with the resources we have, plus help them navigate the County resources that are available and appropriate for them. We have so far helped 3 people get off the streets and into rehab and/or transitional housing and are working with several others. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Recently, I finished a college sociology class through Palomar College. One distinctive concept about deviance has helped me to see the structural causes of homelessness and poverty versus the personal causes. Part of my job is to work with community and County leaders to answer questions, educate about homeless issues and innovate programs and make repairs to existing programs that help the homeless. In that capacity, I have found many course concepts to be illuminating and instructive.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>For instance, in the chapter dealing with Deviance, I was astounded to find a 2 x 2 matrix of Merton’s Strain Theory (figure 8-1). That matrix greatly helped me understand the motivations and goals of the variety of homeless people I know and serve. </p>
<p><span style="font-weight: 400;">Figure 8–1</span><b> Merton’s Strain Theory of Deviance</b></p>
<p><span style="font-weight: 400;"><img src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/oUw4YXS6w5lLOCnqNxd3Q6XcOGyKDCSh0NPuxn_JL0FiV0pL7PpALIIupRl2ve7o3Vv6C-nQD-7-DTauAVbQsUUGUZZsqGX65wy8VUCgKCsrLSzurEzdax38WOVg2zL2aeBrCb0" width="530" height="532"/></span></p>
<p><span style="font-weight: 400;">Combining a person’s view of cultural goals and the conventional means to obtain them allowed Robert Merton to identify various types of deviance.</span></p>
<p>Terry and Tulley are two chronically alcoholic men who were some of the first people I got to know on the streets here in Fallbrook. Merton’s theory helped me see these two as <em>Retreatists</em> who have largely given up on society (and themselves) by rejecting both the conventional means of citizenship and its cultural goals. They are polite to a degree, but very rejecting of help and encouragement, preferring instead to criticize others and society. Cody, our “poster lady” for homeless, is a cooperative, thoughtful, helpful, happy person who has given up on achieving the goals of participation in society but strains daily to pursue the means to success. She is a <em>Ritualist</em>. She keeps herself fastidiously clean, participates in our committee and makes valuable contributions, exercises and keeps to herself. She maintains a very prim and proper appearance and maintains her pickup truck home with care. She is a delightful homeless person who happens to be bipolar and knows it, but cannot get on track for employment or housing. Still, she tries. Rich, Nick, Seth, and Bobby are young men (2 of them are former students of mine!) who are living large and enjoying the vagabond life. They get beaten down by the weather at times, but usually are very energetic and idealistic about their existence. Every day is a day of drama, socializing and sometimes, drug use and sales. They camp out in the outlying areas of town and have a variety of equipment and entertainment devices to make their lives sufficiently pleasurable. They are <em>Innovators</em> according to Merton; they reject conventional societal means to success but seem to envision achieving societal goals, nonetheless. They appear to be constructing their own society that is parallel to the larger society. Lastly, there is Dave. Dave was the very first homeless person I met in town. I helped him by buying food for him at various stores and restaurants as he had been banned from those establishments due to his septic appearance and condition. I helped him get to the hospital during those times when his health declined precipitously and even advocated for him with the Veteran’s Administration, getting him admitted to the V.A. hospital for treatment of his alcoholism and brain damaged behavior. Dave is in jail now (probably the best place for him to be under current conditions) but through Merton’s theory I was able to see him as a “<em>Rebel</em>” who has thoroughly rejected society’s means and goals for participation, success and happiness. He blazes his own cultural path, and people need to get out of his way. Dave’s favorite saying when confronted with adversity or correction is “I don’t give a F@#*.” Merton’s idea that sometimes too much deviance can be a bad thing reminds me of Dave.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Some of the course's readings on poverty and homelessness were valuable and provocative for me. Reading in chapter 9 about the research of Oscar Lewis “blaming the individual,” I can relate to this view in that I hear it a lot from uninformed, prejudiced people. As an educator who has worked with children and youth from grades K-12, I know that some students are lacking in social and learning skills which would enable them to get good jobs. Simply put, they lack brains that can enable them to seek and hold onto a well-paying work. Or they are undergoing extreme stress from parents at home or have very poor adult role models, if any. I do understand and support the notion that we can’t always blame the individual for their poverty or homelessness. But I also know students and homeless folk who are very resourceful at creating a “victim” narrative for themselves and hiding behind it. Then again, what are we to do with the 1/3 of homeless estimated to be disabled, another 1/3 severely addicted to substances or the 1% of people who just can’t cope with a complex, competitive society? Or the 35% of homeless comprised of families? I often want to ask homeless “haters” which homeless they hate! Do they hate homeless children who make up the greatest number of that group?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>On the other hand, when I read William Julius Wilson’s research holding “society primarily responsible” for homelessness, I resonate with that reasoning too. As one who conservatively consumes media, culture and material goods, I am astounded at the narcissism and materialism of many in our society. The lack of compassion and understanding of some is almost incomprehensible. I chalk it up to ignorance, sometimes incidental but often intentional. I see the wastefulness in government programs (Fallbrook is considering funding private guards in our historic business district to keep the area clear of homeless) and often wonder if such money could be more effectively spent for rehabbing the homeless. Our textbook author took the viewpoint that it’s a matter of jobs and housing availability, and while I do see these as vital components for the restoration of homeless and poor people, I don’t think that they are sufficient. Perhaps his comments about relative and absolute poverty are significant here. I have traveled many countries in Asia and Africa and I have seen a level of poverty in those places that is far removed from what I see here. One of the big surprises I got when I first started working with the poor here in America is that food is relatively easy to get when living on the streets. Most of the people I work with Have EBT cards (electronic benefit transfer) and can buy about $200 worth of food per month. There are also many food banks available which can be used to supplement any food that is purchased. But what I see is that many homeless prefer to buy fast food rather than eat packaged room temperature food. So the relative poverty I see here is nothing like the absolute poverty I see in Third world countries. Still, I feel that one should try to erase poverty wherever it is encountered.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The feature of poverty and homelessness that I didn’t see discussed in Macionis’ book was the relational aspect. I know that some of the homeless I deal with can’t imagine returning to a life of work or a home until someone believes in them. Here, perhaps, the “blame” of homelessness and poverty lies not with its victims or the society that keeps them victimized, but with us who fail to come alongside and encourage them. We can stand with our arms folded and criticize the homeless for not jumping through the hoop of respectability or we can stand back and insist that “somebody else” take charge and do something about homelessness and poverty. Or we can roll up our sleeves, get personally involved, and start talking and networking with each other to reclaim lost lives. It’s difficult, confusing, frustrating, and exhausting to work with the homeless. Often it seems we have been defeated in our best efforts only to find out that good people have come through for us or situations have miraculously changed for the better. Sometimes it’s the opposite. But we always keep trying, because people are worth it. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>After all, they are our “brothers” and neighbors. But we’re definitely not their “keepers.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p> The Guntag:ashford-edu651.ning.com,2019-05-27:4171967:Topic:186042019-05-27T04:40:13.143ZBrad Foxhttp://ashford-edu651.ning.com/profile/BradFox
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I served as a seaman in the U.S. Navy during the Vietnam war from January ’69 to November ‘70. <a href="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2678906250?profile=original" rel="noopener" target="_blank"><img class="align-right" src="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2678906250?profile=RESIZE_710x"></img></a></span> <span style="font-size: 12pt;">My first ship was the U.S.S. New Jersey BB-62. I had been flown out to the U.S.S. Ranger CV-61 aircraft carrier from Subic Bay on a mail plane. The Ranger was “on station” in the Tonkin Gulf and…</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I served as a seaman in the U.S. Navy during the Vietnam war from January ’69 to November ‘70. <a href="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2678906250?profile=original" target="_blank" rel="noopener"><img src="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2678906250?profile=RESIZE_710x" class="align-right"/></a></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">My first ship was the U.S.S. New Jersey BB-62. I had been flown out to the U.S.S. Ranger CV-61 aircraft carrier from Subic Bay on a mail plane. The Ranger was “on station” in the Tonkin Gulf and it was a way station of sorts to get personnel out to the ships in the fleet which were also serving in that area. As our plane landed the rear ramp lowered and several Ranger aviation crew members peered in as they were anxious to get the mailbags and learn of news from loved ones back home. With their protective goggles on and their yellow vests covering their torsos, they looked like giant honeybees eagerly entering their hive. <a href="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2679458539?profile=original" target="_blank" rel="noopener"><img src="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2679458539?profile=RESIZE_710x" class="align-left"/></a></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Each of us transfer sailors was led down to the mess decks where we could eat our evening meal and then given a slip of paper to help us find our way to our berthing compartment. That slip was a very valuable piece of information, as the Ranger was a complex, giant ship which was very disorienting when we were below decks. We managed to find our way to the compartment after our meal and I remember turning in early, as there really wasn’t much else we could do with the few personal effects that we had in our duffle bags. Unfortunately, we were right beneath the catapult mechanism for the launching of jet fighters so we didn’t immediately nod off to sleep. The next day we were “heloed” (carried by helicopter) out to the New Jersey, which being a gun ship, was closer to the coast than the Ranger. The New Jersey was to be my home for the next 6 months. As I was a “late” arrival to the ship's crew, someone slipped up and didn’t assign me to stand watches. When my low-ranking buddies in the division found out about this, they strongly advised me to say nothing as this was the ultimate dream of every military man! It worked for awhile until almost the entire crew was replaced upon our arrival back in the states in April of ’69. </span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">As a lowly seaman, I was assigned to the ship's 5<sup>th</sup> division which was a combined deck force and gunnery group. As a “deck ape” I had daily duties of maintaining the exterior surfaces of our particular section of the ship, which was starboard, aft. It was a pretty mind-numbing job which consisted mainly of rinsing down the superstructure walls with sponges soaked in fresh water <em>before</em> breakfast each day. Then it was chip, paint, sand, wrap, sew, tie fancy knots and maintain equipment. Our typical workday lasted from 7-4 except for Sundays, when we got the day off. To call it “make work” would be generously kind. But we talked, told jokes, snacked when we could, and horse played from time to time as well. </span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">We also stood gun duty each day or night. We had something like 4 section duty wherein our division was separated into 4 groups and each group would take a 4 hour shift sometime during the day or night. This meant that some days you would have gun duty during your regular deck work (a blessing to get away from the monotony) or during normal sleep hours during the night. Sleeping hours were from 10 PM to 6 AM so it was possible to miss half a night’s sleep on a pretty regular basis. The guns we manned were typical 5” guns used throughout the fleet. They could shoot maybe 15-20 miles (not quite to the horizon). So your targets usually were within view. Three of the divisions on board were responsible for the 16” turrets. The turret guns fired mammoth-sized shells weighing either 1,900 or 2,700 pounds! Each turret had 3 of these gigantic guns which took 79 men to operate it.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><a href="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2678959198?profile=original" target="_blank" rel="noopener"><img src="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2678959198?profile=RESIZE_710x" class="align-right"/></a></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">During our on station patrols, one 5” battery of guns (we had 10 altogether) was assigned to duty, as was one of the turrets. In order that the ship’s crew could still continue their work on at least part of the exterior of the ship, the ship’s decks were roped off so that no one could get near to the firing guns. As I recall, hatches leading from the interior of the ship to some of the nearby outside decks were secured with signs that warned of gun danger outside. </span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">After eating lunch one day, some of my buddies and I exited our normal egress hatch onto the main deck. Considering the heat of the Vietnam environment, we all had our shirts off. Just as we stepped around the lifeboat davits to get to our work space, we heard </span><span style="font-size: 16px;">the</span><span style="font-size: 16px;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“beep-beep-beep” warning horn from the aft turret. That turret was on duty, and it had a firing mission that it was in the process of completing. The turret guns were pointed to our starboard side, about 45 degrees to the right of the ship’s keel. At the completion of the last “beep” the turret gun fired and the 4 of us thought we were immediately dead! </span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><img src="https://amp.businessinsider.com/images/5c3e40d3ecbeb407b531ac19-750-375.jpg" alt="USS Wisconsin Fireball"/></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I have never heard a noise so completely deafening! The concussion of the launched shell literally compressed our bodies. We didn’t know if we were alive or dead! But the worst part of the experience was the cordite from the gun hitting our bare-chested bodies. It gave me the impression that something had penetrated my body and I was temporarily suspended between life or death. Talk about deaf, dumb and blind! That was an experience that made me age about 20 years in an instant!</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">This is a view of turret 3 firing to starboard from an aft view looking forward. You can actually see a sailor in the lower right hand corner of this picture. He's probably on fan tail watch which consists of watching for anyone who might fall overboard. I'm sure he's well protected against the effects of the blast. One thing he has going for him is his ear protection which attenuates the volume of the gun's firing. I was approximately the same distance from the gun as he is, but the gun was turned toward me so that I could see the open muzzle. I was not in the orange ball of flame, but I was close to it!</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">To see the machinery, layout and operation of a 16” turret gun: <a href="https://gizmodo.com/spectacular-photos-of-the-us-navys-most-powerful-battle-1594490934">https://gizmodo.com/spectacular-photos-of-the-us-navys-most-powerful-battle-1594490934</a></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Late in the afternoons we would sometimes go up to the forecastle (the bow area of the ship) and watch turrets 1 and 2 firing upon positions inland. <a href="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2679571186?profile=original" target="_blank" rel="noopener"><img src="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2679571186?profile=RESIZE_710x" class="align-left"/></a></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Here you can see the area where we would stand in the bow (the deck above the anchors). The turrets would often fire over coastal ridges to protect troop positions or military hospitals because our gunnery was so precise. We would look at a position about 100 feet out from the muzzle and wait for the beeps to indicate an imminent firing. There we could catch the figure of an emerging shell and follow it for some distance as it hurtled outbound. It was an awesome display of power as 1,900 or sometimes 2,700 pounds of shell accelerated into the sky! Here you can see a 5" bullet leaving a modern gun mount. Imagine a bullet more than 3x bigger. As an added treat, the steel frame of the ship shuddered and moved the bow structure to and fro by about one foot! What a ride!</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><img src="https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTm6HKp-1OztKyRwtoeuMRDzVdY9hS-cEcHU8t_CT4WDXmxrez9BQ" alt="Image result for battleship bullet in mid flight"/></span></p> Be the Change...tag:ashford-edu651.ning.com,2019-03-14:4171967:Topic:181012019-03-14T16:30:06.787ZBrad Foxhttp://ashford-edu651.ning.com/profile/BradFox
<p><span>In 2004 during my first teacher exchange program with Japan, I was able to visit the site of the first nuclear bomb attack in history. The national museum in Hiroshima is set up to take you on an increasingly sensitive journey through the historical, scientific and personal aspects of the bomb. …</span></p>
<p><span><a href="https://a2.cdn.japantravel.com/photo/1102-128109/800!/hiroshima-hiroshima-peace-memorial-museum-128109.jpg" rel="noopener" target="_blank"><img class="align-center" height="179" src="https://cdn.japantimes.2xx.jp/wp-content/uploads/2016/05/n-abombmuseum-a-20160525.jpg?profile=RESIZE_710x" width="252"></img></a></span></p>
<p><span>In 2004 during my first teacher exchange program with Japan, I was able to visit the site of the first nuclear bomb attack in history. The national museum in Hiroshima is set up to take you on an increasingly sensitive journey through the historical, scientific and personal aspects of the bomb. </span></p>
<p><span><a href="https://a2.cdn.japantravel.com/photo/1102-128109/800!/hiroshima-hiroshima-peace-memorial-museum-128109.jpg" target="_blank" rel="noopener"><img src="https://cdn.japantimes.2xx.jp/wp-content/uploads/2016/05/n-abombmuseum-a-20160525.jpg?profile=RESIZE_710x" width="252" class="align-center" height="179"/></a></span><span>In the ultimate gallery I was able to view a rusty, broken tricycle that had been buried with its owner, a 4-year-old boy, in the yard of the family home after he had died of radiation exposure. At the time of his death, the family’s pain had been too intense to share publicly. Many years later the boy’s father had decided to donate it to the museum in order to honor his son’s memory. I had never experienced such a historic, sensitive tribute to a child’s death in my own country.</span></p>
<p><span><img src="http://www.pcf.city.hiroshima.jp/virtual/VirtualMuseum_e/visit_e/vit_ex_e/img/1105-0001.jpg" alt="Image result for hiroshima tricycle" class="align-center"/><img src="http://www.pcf.city.hiroshima.jp/virtual/VirtualMuseum_e/visit_e/vit_ex_e/img/sin_g1.jpg" alt="Image result for hiroshima tricycle" class="align-center"/></span></p>
<p><span>The next year I was fortunate to become an adjunct faculty member of a junior high school in Daizafu-shi, Fukuoka, Japan for an entire summer session. I was engaged with the junior high students at the school. I felt a special kinship with them. I greeted the students each day alongside the principal and engaged the teachers daily in their faculty lounge. Using translators, I taught lessons in various subject disciplines and got to know students in their club and social activities. Even though I did not speak their language, we could "read" each other’s actions and faces. There was a special bond among us.</span></p>
<p><span>One of the most memorable activities of that period was to attend a yearly school assembly to commemorate the culturally significant death of a young teenage girl due to the circumstances of radiation poisoning after the Nagasaki nuclear bomb was dropped in August, 1945. The story had been immortalized through a popular, poignant book that was well known to the students. The assembly that day included a slide show of the book’s illustrations and a student-led recitation of the content. A few students even offered their personal perspectives about the book. Including my previous observations in Hiroshima, I continued to think about the ramifications of being in a culture on the losing-end of a major war. The mood was somber and reflective. Even though the ceremony was conducted in Japanese language, I could sense the sadness and loss of students and teachers relating to a peer that had died decades before. I was able to follow along in an English translation of the book as I sat quietly observing. </span></p>
<p><span>As I sat in this auditorium of perhaps 500 Japanese adults and teens, it crushed me to know that I was the sole representative of the nation who had been the victor over them, and indirectly contributed to the death of this young girl. It was the perhaps the loneliest moment I’ve ever experienced. I wanted to apologize and ease their pain, but as someone who was born after the bombings, how could I? How does one individual begin to apologize for a clash of cultures and civilizations?</span></p>
<p></p>
<p><span><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/381/3044/1600/IMG_1012.jpg" target="_blank" rel="noopener"><img src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/381/3044/1600/IMG_1012.jpg?profile=RESIZE_710x" width="300" class="align-center"/></a></span></p>
<p><span>Later that summer, I visited the Nagasaki Atomic Bomb Museum with one of my host Japanese teacher colleagues. Sensei (teacher) Arata was a perfect philosophical guide through the Nagasaki museum and memorials, although he could not bring himself to entering the museum. It’s not that I hadn’t yet learned facts about the history of the bombs; it’s that he was able to personalize the experience and attach my general knowledge to a specific life. He related his own junior high experience of visiting the museum and <em>for the first time in his life</em> learning about the tragedy that his nation had suffered. He’d left his school group for quite some time to regain his composure. He was devastated to learn about the pain his countrymen and family had experienced. His perspective on his life was forever changed.</span></p>
<p><span><a href="https://www.japan-guide.com/g17/4400_11.jpg" target="_blank" rel="noopener"><img src="https://www.japan-guide.com/g17/4400_11.jpg?profile=RESIZE_710x" width="300" class="align-center"/></a></span></p>
<p><span>As a scientist and history buff, I was aware of the technical aspects of the nuclear bomb attacks upon Japan. As a veteran, I knew about our difficult war experience with that country. But I had never had the privilege of learning about the personal effects of the bombs until I visited Japan and got to know some Japanese intimately. The trips to the bomb museums gave me a much-needed and re-calibrated perspective about the human experience of the bombs and war in general. At this time my own first grandchild had been born and this searing memory of a child’s painful death caused me anguish. I thought “How would I respond if this had happened to my own children or grandchildren?"</span></p>
<p><span>I was deeply moved and changed by these experiences. In teaching students and interacting with their teachers in Japan, Africa and India, I have come to believe that <em>all</em> students are within my sphere of concern, and <em>many</em> are within my sphere of influence. As I finished out my teaching career, I realized that the most impacting thing that I could do for my own students was to help them understand the similarities and differences they have with students from other countries. Not that other cultures are more “right” or “wrong” than our culture, just <em>different. </em>This was a motivating factor in my decision to create online interactive experiences between my classes and students and schools in other countries. It made me not just a good American educator, but a <em>global</em> educator. A God-blessed educator who used my skills and life experiences to <em>be</em> His blessing in a desperate world. I am humbled to bring this story to you.</span></p>
<p><span>“Be the change <em><span style="text-decoration: underline;">you</span></em> wish to see in the world” said Gandhi. I prefer to say "Be the change <em><span style="text-decoration: underline;">GOD</span></em> wants to see in this world."</span></p>
<p><span>I did.</span></p> Apologizingtag:ashford-edu651.ning.com,2019-03-14:4171967:Topic:180012019-03-14T16:30:06.645ZBrad Foxhttp://ashford-edu651.ning.com/profile/BradFox
<p><span>In 2004 during my second teacher exchange program with Japan, I was able to visit the site of the first nuclear bomb attack in history. The national museum in Hiroshima is set up to take you on an increasingly sensitive journey through the historical, scientific and personal aspects of the bomb. …</span></p>
<p><span><a href="https://a2.cdn.japantravel.com/photo/1102-128109/800!/hiroshima-hiroshima-peace-memorial-museum-128109.jpg" rel="noopener" target="_blank"><img class="align-center" height="179" src="https://cdn.japantimes.2xx.jp/wp-content/uploads/2016/05/n-abombmuseum-a-20160525.jpg?profile=RESIZE_710x" width="252"></img></a></span></p>
<p><span>In 2004 during my second teacher exchange program with Japan, I was able to visit the site of the first nuclear bomb attack in history. The national museum in Hiroshima is set up to take you on an increasingly sensitive journey through the historical, scientific and personal aspects of the bomb. </span></p>
<p><span><a href="https://a2.cdn.japantravel.com/photo/1102-128109/800!/hiroshima-hiroshima-peace-memorial-museum-128109.jpg" target="_blank" rel="noopener"><img src="https://cdn.japantimes.2xx.jp/wp-content/uploads/2016/05/n-abombmuseum-a-20160525.jpg?profile=RESIZE_710x" width="252" class="align-center" height="179"/></a></span><span>In the ultimate gallery I was able to view a rusty, broken tricycle that had been buried with its owner, a 4-year-old boy, in the yard of the family home after he had died of radiation exposure. At the time of his death, the family’s pain had been too intense to share publicly. Many years later the boy’s father had decided to donate it to the museum in order to honor his son’s memory. I had never experienced such a historic, sensitive tribute to a child’s death in my own country.</span></p>
<p><span><img src="http://www.pcf.city.hiroshima.jp/virtual/VirtualMuseum_e/visit_e/vit_ex_e/img/1105-0001.jpg" alt="Image result for hiroshima tricycle"/><img src="http://www.pcf.city.hiroshima.jp/virtual/VirtualMuseum_e/visit_e/vit_ex_e/img/sin_g1.jpg" alt="Image result for hiroshima tricycle"/></span></p>
<p><span>The next year I was fortunate to become an adjunct faculty member of a junior high school in Daizafu-shi, Fukuoka, Japan for an entire summer session. I was engaged with the junior high students at the school. I felt a special kinship with them. I greeted the students each day alongside the principal and engaged the teachers daily in their faculty lounge. Using translators, I taught lessons in various subject disciplines and got to know students in their club and social activities. Even though I did not speak their language, we could "read" each other’s actions and faces. There was a special bond among us.</span></p>
<p><span>One of the most memorable activities of that period was to attend a yearly school assembly to commemorate the culturally significant death of a young teenage girl due to the circumstances of radiation poisoning after the Nagasaki nuclear bomb was dropped in August, 1945. The story had been immortalized through a popular, poignant book that was well known to the students. The assembly that day included a slide show of the book’s illustrations and a student-led recitation of the content. A few students even offered their personal perspectives about the book. Including my previous observations in Hiroshima, I continued to think about the ramifications of being in a culture on the losing-end of a major war. The mood was somber and reflective. Even though the ceremony was conducted in Japanese language, I could sense the sadness and loss of students and teachers relating to a peer that had died decades before. I was able to follow along in an English translation of the book as I sat quietly observing. </span></p>
<p><span>As I sat in this auditorium of perhaps 500 Japanese adults and teens, it crushed me to know that I was the sole representative of the nation who had been the victor over them, and indirectly contributed to the death of this young girl. It was the perhaps the loneliest moment I’ve ever experienced. I wanted to apologize and ease their pain, but as someone who was born after the bombings, how could I? How does one individual begin to apologize for a clash of cultures and civilizations?</span></p>
<p></p>
<p><span><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/381/3044/1600/IMG_1012.jpg" target="_blank" rel="noopener"><img src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/381/3044/1600/IMG_1012.jpg?profile=RESIZE_710x" width="300" class="align-center"/></a></span></p>
<p><span>Later that summer, I visited the Nagasaki Atomic Bomb Museum with one of my host Japanese teacher colleagues. Sensei (teacher) Arata was a perfect philosophical guide through the Nagasaki museum and memorials, although he could not bring himself to entering the museum. It’s not that I hadn’t yet learned facts about the history of the bombs; it’s that he was able to personalize the experience and attach my general knowledge to a specific life. He related his own junior high experience of visiting the museum and <em>for the first time in his life</em> learning about the tragedy that his nation had suffered. He’d left his school group for quite some time to regain his composure. He was devastated to learn about the pain his countrymen and family had experienced. His perspective on his life was forever changed.</span></p>
<p><span><a href="https://www.japan-guide.com/g17/4400_11.jpg" target="_blank" rel="noopener"><img src="https://www.japan-guide.com/g17/4400_11.jpg?profile=RESIZE_710x" width="300" class="align-center"/></a></span></p>
<p><span>As a scientist and history buff, I was aware of the technical aspects of the nuclear bomb attacks upon Japan. As a veteran, I knew about our difficult war experience with that country. But I had never had the privilege of learning about the personal effects of the bombs until I visited Japan and got to know some Japanese intimately. The trips to the bomb museums gave me a much-needed and re-calibrated perspective about the human experience of the bombs and war in general. At this time my own first grandchild had been born and this searing memory of a child’s painful death caused me anguish. I thought “How would I respond if this had happened to my own children or grandchildren?"</span></p>
<p><span>I was deeply moved and changed by these experiences. In teaching students and interacting with their teachers in Japan, Africa and India, I have come to believe that <em>all</em> students are within my sphere of concern, and <em>many</em> are within my sphere of influence. As I finished out my teaching career, I realized that the most impacting thing that I could do for my own students was to help them understand the similarities and differences they have with students from other countries. Not that other cultures are more “right” or “wrong” than our culture, just <em>different. </em>This was a motivating factor in my decision to create online interactive experiences between my classes and students and schools in other countries. It made me not just a good American educator, but a <em>global</em> educator. A God-blessed educator who used my skills and life experiences to <em>be</em> His blessing in a desperate world. I am humbled to bring this story to you.</span></p>
<p><span>“Be the change <em><span style="text-decoration: underline;">you</span></em> wish to see in the world” said Gandhi. I prefer to say "Be the change <em><span style="text-decoration: underline;">GOD</span></em> wants to see in this world."</span></p>
<p><span>I did.</span></p> Christmas themestag:ashford-edu651.ning.com,2018-11-24:4171967:Topic:177052018-11-24T19:27:34.905ZBrad Foxhttp://ashford-edu651.ning.com/profile/BradFox
<div class="uiScaledImageContainer"><img alt="Image may contain: one or more people, people standing, outdoor and nature" class="scaledImageFitHeight img" height="290" src="https://scontent-lax3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t1.0-9/25507878_1654722777881230_7617182909662246057_n.jpg?_nc_cat=103&_nc_ht=scontent-lax3-1.xx&oh=8778836a3f77fe93643fefcca42d87f1&oe=5CABC5B2" width="559"></img></div>
<div class="uiScaledImageContainer"><img alt="Image may contain: food" class="scaledImageFitHeight img" height="96" src="https://scontent-lax3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t1.0-9/25507839_1654720894548085_1345590413327590995_n.jpg?_nc_cat=110&_nc_ht=scontent-lax3-1.xx&oh=d27f0347cff41fe184b687e7d7edc6ed&oe=5C730CD4" width="185"></img> <img alt="Image may contain: food" class="scaledImageFitHeight img" height="97" src="https://scontent-lax3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t1.0-9/25551955_1654720987881409_8415371955578518703_n.jpg?_nc_cat=102&_nc_ht=scontent-lax3-1.xx&oh=375bcee544afcec82ffc9b4f806ccb76&oe=5CABF823" width="187"></img> <img alt="Image may contain: food" class="scaledImageFitHeight img" height="96" src="https://scontent-lax3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t1.0-9/25498511_1654721171214724_7580877052769065121_n.jpg?_nc_cat=103&_nc_ht=scontent-lax3-1.xx&oh=81e17badca0bcdb2380c29e2249687c0&oe=5C6519E8" width="186"></img></div>
<p><span style="font-weight: 400;"><a class="_5dec _xcx" href="https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=1654721171214724&set=pcb.1654723601214481&type=3&__tn__=HH-R&eid=ARDdUVlJaYEq6SzXP9ZCCHfuQ9ytADV6PvmcrA7L5lN4xgWTzYOO6DThWQbA-YCsWtrVSSYc4U3eVxMt" id="u_4l_8" name="u_4l_8" rel="theater"></a>Embalming substance for a baby shower gift?…</span></p>
<p></p>
<div class="uiScaledImageContainer"><img class="scaledImageFitHeight img" src="https://scontent-lax3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t1.0-9/25507878_1654722777881230_7617182909662246057_n.jpg?_nc_cat=103&_nc_ht=scontent-lax3-1.xx&oh=8778836a3f77fe93643fefcca42d87f1&oe=5CABC5B2" alt="Image may contain: one or more people, people standing, outdoor and nature" width="559" height="290"/></div>
<div class="uiScaledImageContainer"><img class="scaledImageFitHeight img" src="https://scontent-lax3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t1.0-9/25507839_1654720894548085_1345590413327590995_n.jpg?_nc_cat=110&_nc_ht=scontent-lax3-1.xx&oh=d27f0347cff41fe184b687e7d7edc6ed&oe=5C730CD4" alt="Image may contain: food" width="185" height="96"/><img class="scaledImageFitHeight img" src="https://scontent-lax3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t1.0-9/25551955_1654720987881409_8415371955578518703_n.jpg?_nc_cat=102&_nc_ht=scontent-lax3-1.xx&oh=375bcee544afcec82ffc9b4f806ccb76&oe=5CABF823" alt="Image may contain: food" width="187" height="97"/><img class="scaledImageFitHeight img" src="https://scontent-lax3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t1.0-9/25498511_1654721171214724_7580877052769065121_n.jpg?_nc_cat=103&_nc_ht=scontent-lax3-1.xx&oh=81e17badca0bcdb2380c29e2249687c0&oe=5C6519E8" alt="Image may contain: food" width="186" height="96"/></div>
<p><span style="font-weight: 400;"><a rel="theater" class="_5dec _xcx" href="https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=1654721171214724&set=pcb.1654723601214481&type=3&__tn__=HH-R&eid=ARDdUVlJaYEq6SzXP9ZCCHfuQ9ytADV6PvmcrA7L5lN4xgWTzYOO6DThWQbA-YCsWtrVSSYc4U3eVxMt" id="u_4l_8" name="u_4l_8"></a>Embalming substance for a baby shower gift?</span></p>
<p><span style="font-weight: 400;">The Magi gave three gifts: Gold. Frankincense, Myrrh.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-weight: 400;">Gold has frequently been mentioned as possibly being very useful in helping Joseph and Mary pay for their flight to Egypt to escape Herod's murder of innocent baby boys. A royal gift.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-weight: 400;">Frankincense: an ingredient in the perfume of the sanctuary (see Exodus 30:34). Burning incense in the temple represented prayer (see Psalm 141:2). A priestly gift</span></p>
<p><span style="font-weight: 400;">Myrrh: an ingredient in the holy anointing oil for consecrating priests, the tabernacle, and kings (see Exodus 30:23–25). It was also used in embalming (see John 19:39). A gift meant to anoint the Christ child in his mission of sacrifice. A portend of His death on the cross.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-weight: 400;">Lord, thanks for your indescribable gift of the Christ child.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-weight: 400;">Thomas S. Monson</span></p>
<h5><img src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/aKytcPmJuHQM1y9B7EizvPOULNa0H1n-9DrXDawk5Pkzy3nGTpK-9TfvOXUATlbTMTFkS-6TG_rfk30u0Xl8yE15eaqdzvk6hYNp-5dN" class="align-center" width="315" height="177"/></h5>
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<p><span style="font-weight: 400;">Isaiah prophesied: "For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace."</span></p>
<p><span style="font-weight: 400;">His shoulders. Not the politicians. This changes everything for me.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-weight: 400;">God rest you and be merry, gentlemen, and ladies!</span></p>
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<p><img src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/V_bjAg_sXTTV3IrDvWTW-eMM2zvXo_0o7pGP3VVjMP3lW3pDo2n2wGIF0zATzEwNEdLlxso_8XOkdC26JccQuZxu3fNUvebKCvfdgFhr" class="align-center" width="329" height="272"/></p>
<p><span style="font-weight: 400;">Prophetic. Not ironic. The little town of Bethlehem, situated 6 miles from Jerusalem, existed solely to raise choice sheep that would be used in the Temple sacrifices that would remove sin from the Jewish people. The sheep had to be the first born of a ewe, unblemished and dedicated for temple use only. Then one night, God birthed his final Lamb which would be His personal, ultimate sacrifice for His people, you and me. Micah predicted it 700 years before it happened. It was the fulfillment of His plan, not a coincidence or a "plan B." I am beyond thankful. Astonished.</span></p>
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<p><span style="font-weight: 400;"><img src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/HNs3lwkABMqJMWMBBtqh84kDZioiWOSFkSBCNJ-syEPnv4Vf69reJkW181344LnyJ3IpD6YUVFbn6FacLfZP0jZnrDbJx_Z5UBkcY4jJ8eHnI9ROyn2QXWilAauQ7fJ-iS1qn7W4" class="align-center"/></span></p>
<p><span style="font-weight: 400;"><span>Bi</span>ble commentary: We moderns expect God to come looking for us, to explain Himself, prove who He is, and give us gifts. Wise men from far away</span></p>
<p><span style="font-weight: 400;">Persia came looking for God not for what they could get, but for who He was.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-weight: 400;"><img src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/ITlHGemxqzqopBGAQw0JB0PvE4y3BkIahhKAFegtS5-QSm2RJTqbiOImnnDKv4SuTrPSD7aYkpMhMzusCYKe7JL0l3-WRV9JhGbqsh9n" class="align-center"/></span></p>
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<p><span style="font-weight: 400;">“If there were no lights, trees, parades, and parties would we still celebrate? If our Christmas was as lowly and quiet as it was in the stable all those years ago, would we still rejoice? If there were no gifts and all we had was Jesus, would He be enough?” Whitney White</span></p>
<p></p> 9/11tag:ashford-edu651.ning.com,2018-11-24:4171967:Topic:176102018-11-24T05:24:08.989ZBrad Foxhttp://ashford-edu651.ning.com/profile/BradFox
<div class="_1dwg _1w_m _q7o"><div class="_5pbx userContent _3576" id="js_3np"><div class="text_exposed_root text_exposed" id="id_5bf8dface3bc29976138066"><p><img alt="Image may contain: nature, outdoor and water" class="_46-i img align-center" height="349" src="https://scontent-lax3-2.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t1.0-0/q92/p526x296/41490586_1971155602904611_7830407133651795968_n.jpg?_nc_cat=107&_nc_ht=scontent-lax3-2.xx&oh=a4d3afea7cd0b1ac1d122f87ce6d9d1a&oe=5C63F313" width="526"></img> Special Day. I remember my dad calling me at 6:30 in the morning telling me that a plane had crashed into the World Trade Center in N.Y. I thought, "yeah, statistically it's going to happen sooner or later." I was thinking a small Cessna or something of that scale. Little did I know. He was pretty agitated about what he was…</p>
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<div class="_1dwg _1w_m _q7o"><div class="_5pbx userContent _3576" id="js_3np"><div id="id_5bf8dface3bc29976138066" class="text_exposed_root text_exposed"><p><img class="_46-i img align-center" src="https://scontent-lax3-2.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t1.0-0/q92/p526x296/41490586_1971155602904611_7830407133651795968_n.jpg?_nc_cat=107&_nc_ht=scontent-lax3-2.xx&oh=a4d3afea7cd0b1ac1d122f87ce6d9d1a&oe=5C63F313" alt="Image may contain: nature, outdoor and water" width="526" height="349"/>Special Day. I remember my dad calling me at 6:30 in the morning telling me that a plane had crashed into the World Trade Center in N.Y. I thought, "yeah, statistically it's going to happen sooner or later." I was thinking a small Cessna or something of that scale. Little did I know. He was pretty agitated about what he was seeing on the tv, so I agreed to turn on mine and shortly thereafter the second plane hit. I remember the tv commentators being somewhat at a loss f<span class="text_exposed_show">or words. They were able to describe the "what" but not the "why."<span> </span><br/>Wow! What a way to start a day of teaching. I remember giving my neighbor kid, Nick, a ride to school, and as he and I listened to the car radio, the commentator said that one of the towers had fallen. I couldn't comprehend that statement as a reality, so I told Nick that the commentator must be overreacting (only to be shocked later that the collapse was real!) The teachers in my school lounge were in shock. They were huddled in small groups discussing what had happened.<span> </span><br/>When the commencement bell rang, I think we all dreaded standing in front of our kids and trying to calm their fears. Some of us tried to allow them to talk and process what was going on. One of my colleagues ran the tv all day and just let the kids watch (I thought "you're letting them watch the people jump from the towers!!!???)<span> </span><br/>It was amazing that at lunch time the rumor mill had started and the kids in military families were already hearing that their dads/moms wouldn't be home that afternoon because they were on their way to the Middle East! (Remember, this was a time before Google and smart phones. In fact, it is amazing to me that more parents didn't pull their kids out of school.)<span> </span><br/>It was probably the most difficult day of my teaching career.<br/>The final twist of emotion came when I drove to my elderly parents' home that afternoon to share the news and commiserate with them. They both lived through Pearl Harbor and Dad served 5 1/2 years in WWII. They were sitting there in shock that such a surprise attack could happen yet again on American soil. Theirs was a grief I couldn't begin to comfort.</span></p>
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<div></div> Praetorianstag:ashford-edu651.ning.com,2018-11-23:4171967:Topic:176082018-11-23T23:52:21.558ZBrad Foxhttp://ashford-edu651.ning.com/profile/BradFox
<p><span><img alt="Image result for praetorian guard gladiator" class="align-center" height="253" src="https://s3-eu-west-1.amazonaws.com/content.propstore.com/auction/la2016/listings/lot137/img13.jpg" width="601"></img></span></p>
<p><span>They were the toughest, baddest warriors of their time. Think Darth. Think Hitler's SS corps. Seal Team 6. All about the black uniforms, huh? Yet the Apostle Paul, while being guarded by them in jail, was able to reach out to them and bring them them God's peace and understanding. As he wrote in one of his letters to a Greek church he started, God's Good News was reaching the people of Rome through his own suffering, and that the whole Praetorian guard…</span></p>
<p><span><img src="https://s3-eu-west-1.amazonaws.com/content.propstore.com/auction/la2016/listings/lot137/img13.jpg" alt="Image result for praetorian guard gladiator" width="601" height="253" class="align-center"/></span></p>
<p><span>They were the toughest, baddest warriors of their time. Think Darth. Think Hitler's SS corps. Seal Team 6. All about the black uniforms, huh? Yet the Apostle Paul, while being guarded by them in jail, was able to reach out to them and bring them them God's peace and understanding. As he wrote in one of his letters to a Greek church he started, God's Good News was reaching the people of Rome through his own suffering, and that the whole Praetorian guard knew and respected </span><span class="text_exposed_show">his motivation to do God's work. Many of his Christian friends, inspired by his boldness with these tough soldiers were themselves emboldened to speak up and act for the common good in a society gone mad. Christians didn't flee a society gone over the edge; they worked to restore it. Within 300 years, their faith in God was the glue that held the empire together and tried to restore it.<br/></span></p>
<p><span class="text_exposed_show"><a href="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2740256630?profile=original" target="_blank" rel="noopener"><img src="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2740256630?profile=RESIZE_710x" class="align-center"/></a></span></p> "I love you Brad!"tag:ashford-edu651.ning.com,2018-07-28:4171967:Topic:172022018-07-28T00:42:04.785ZBrad Foxhttp://ashford-edu651.ning.com/profile/BradFox
<div><span><a href="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2739481423?profile=original" rel="noopener" target="_blank"><img class="align-center" height="262" src="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2739481423?profile=RESIZE_710x" width="134"></img></a></span></div>
<div><span> </span></div>
<div><span>In about 2005, my parents and my adult disabled brother were living in their home here in Fallbrook. I had prevailed upon them to move here from their first retirement home in South Laguna, a home that turned out to be more of a burden than a pleasure. I wanted them to be close to me and my…</span></div>
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<div><span> </span></div>
<div><span>In about 2005, my parents and my adult disabled brother were living in their home here in Fallbrook. I had prevailed upon them to move here from their first retirement home in South Laguna, a home that turned out to be more of a burden than a pleasure. I wanted them to be close to me and my family so that we could help them in their declining years. They were in their late 80's. </span></div>
<div><span> </span></div>
<div><span>Dad was in the early stages of dementia, but none of us knew it. Curiously, his computer was a key indicator, as he would regularly have troubles maintaining his operating system. I would no sooner make repairs to it, then the next day he had "blown up" the system again. As it took me hours to reload his software, this got pretty aggravating. I wondered, "what the heck are you doing Dad?" At this time I was working full time as a teacher, so any help I could give them was done late after my school work was done. I would go over to their house, cook their evening meal, work with my brother on an assistive technology laptop, and do any light chores. Weekends were spent maintaining the house and yard (as well as doing all the work on my own home and yard). It was exhausting!</span></div>
<div><span> </span></div>
<div><span>One Saturday I was repairing a troublesome bathroom faucet in their master suite. I had to walk back and forth from the garage to fetch tools and parts as the afternoon wore on. Each time I walked by my dad's chair he would say "Is there anything I can do to help you Brad?" The first time I politely said no, and the second time I just got the feeling that he really wanted to help in any way he could. I assured him that there was nothing he needed to do and that I had everything under control. By the time he had said it 4 or 5 times I was quite irritated with him and I let him know in fairly strong words that I didn't appreciate him asking me each time I walked by.<br/></span></div>
<div><span> </span></div>
<div><span>Some time later I was tasked with taking the day off to drive him to a neurologist for a mental health checkup. My mom had complained that he was forgetting simple grocery list items or other tasks that she had asked him to do. He had had a few fender scrapes in the parking lots around town. He wasn't his usual "aware" self when he was engaged in conversations, and he was making unreasonable online or telephone purchases.</span></div>
<div><span> </span></div>
<div><span>The doctor gave him a simple memory test, asking him to remember 3 items until they had finished their conversation. He couldn't remember even one of the items. This was a man who had spent his career as a medical doctor, delivering 1,000's of babies and caring for the health of 1,000's of women</span><span>. A WWII vet. A man who worked in the oil fields and fruit packing sheds in the Central Valley to earn money to support his family and pay for his education. A man who had been faithful to his wife for 60 years and had dealt with the crushing defeat of a severely disabled child.</span></div>
<div><span> </span></div>
<div><span>I don't think I ever felt so sad and so alone. I couldn't even discuss how I felt about his demise with him! How sorry I was! I didn't feel comfortable talking with him about his condition, fearing it would cause him anguish. It was the confirmation of our worst fears and the beginning of several years of fading in his personality. </span></div>
<div><span> </span></div>
<div><span>Some time later, I thought back about all the aforementioned incidents that had been flag posts on his journey into dementia. And then I remembered the plumbing incident.</span></div>
<div><span> </span></div>
<div><span>I had mistaken Dad's offers of help during my generally frustrating day as an irritation and nuisance. But then I realized it was just his way of saying "I love you Brad! Is there anything, <u>anything</u> at all that I can do to make your load lighter? I so appreciate all you do for Mom and me!"</span></div>
<div>I always knew there were different ways to say "I love you", but I never realized that some ways were so hard to perceive and understand. The rules of communication between my dad and I had changed and I hadn't seen it coming. I had taken his offer of help at face value and missed his underlying deep feelings. </div>
<div>Sometimes people aren't what you want them to be, no matter how desperately you need that. It's not that they don't<span> </span><i>want<span> </span></i>to give it, as much as, they<span> </span><i>can't</i>. This is a new lens of perspective which is now very valuable to me in assessing my perceived shortcomings of others. I'm glad that I went through this difficult experience with my dad as it has made me appreciate<span> </span><i>all </i>such precious and fragrant expressions of love . It was perhaps the last great gift of his life to me.</div>
<div><span><a href="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2739480232?profile=original" target="_blank" rel="noopener"><img src="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2739480232?profile=RESIZE_710x" width="160" class="align-full"/></a><a href="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2739479373?profile=original" target="_blank" rel="noopener"><img src="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2739479373?profile=RESIZE_710x" class="align-full" width="174" height="178"/></a></span></div>
<div>Facebook comments:</div>
<div><span><a target="_self" class=" UFICommentActorName" dir="ltr" href="https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100008394285575&fref=ufi" id="js_5oq" name="js_5oq">Dave Munson</a></span><span> </span><span><span class="UFICommentBody _1n4g">What a wonderful story! I'm so glad you shared that experience with all of us FB friends BJ. Having known your parents since high school and witnessing their decline in mental and physical health, this story really helps me understand more about my family and even my wife who is having her share of issues. Debby is always asking me if she can help when I'm loading the dishwasher or making the bed and stuff...I usually say thanks and it's OK Deb, I've got it covered. Now I know what she's really doing...she's saying I love you and I wish I could help. Thanks Brad</span></span></div>
<div><span><a target="_self" class=" UFICommentActorName" dir="ltr" href="https://www.facebook.com/brad.fox.338?fref=ufi">Brad Fox</a> <span class="UFICommentBody">The only way we can get through this life with a semblance of beauty and appreciation is to share our lives with each other. Thanks Dave, and thanks for loving "our" Debbie!</span></span></div>
<div><span><span class="UFICommentBody"><a target="_self" class=" UFICommentActorName" dir="ltr" href="https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100008394285575&fref=ufi">Dave Munson</a> You bet BJ! I always enjoyed your Mom & Dad. Sharing our stories is important!</span></span></div>
<div><span><span class="UFICommentBody"><a target="_self" class=" UFICommentActorName" dir="ltr" href="https://www.facebook.com/phyllis.m.wilburn?fref=ufi" id="js_65v" name="js_65v">Phyllis Malcomson Wilburn</a> Beautifully said Brad. Many of us have shared your experience and I pray that our children don’t have that burden.</span></span></div>
<div><span><span class="UFICommentBody"><a target="_self" class=" UFICommentActorName" dir="ltr" href="https://www.facebook.com/brad.fox.338?fref=ufi" id="js_6jo" name="js_6jo">Brad Fox</a> Thanks <a class="profileLink" dir="ltr" target="_blank" href="https://www.facebook.com/phyllis.m.wilburn?hc_location=ufi" rel="noopener">Phyllis Malcomson Wilburn</a>. What had seemed like a burden was actually adversity introducing me to my truest self. It made me better for others.</span></span></div>
<div><span><span class="UFICommentBody"><a target="_self" class=" UFICommentActorName" dir="ltr" href="https://www.facebook.com/andie.p.macarthur?fref=ufi">Andie Phelps MacArthur</a> Beautifully written, Brad. This a a tough thing many of us go through. I could relate to so much. How I wished later that I'd understood what was going on with them and maybe handled some things better. We all do the best we can. I don't think anyone really understands until they've been through it.<br/> All my best to you and your family.</span></span></div>
<div><span><span class="UFICommentBody"><a target="_self" class=" UFICommentActorName" dir="ltr" href="https://www.facebook.com/vicki.h.custodio?fref=ufi" id="js_6ui" name="js_6ui">Vicki Custodio</a> <span class="UFICommentBody _1n4g">What a touching, beautiful remembrance Brad. My dad put a new roof on my house when he was 65 years old. He died at age 70. Mom stayed in their Pasadena home until she was 76. Then she moved into a retirement community close to me. She never stopped wanting to help her family—watching her great grand baby, making an occasional dinner. Her purpose in life was to do for her family. I will miss them until the day I die. What a blessing to have godly parents.</span></span></span></div>
<div><span><span class="UFICommentBody"><span class="UFICommentBody _1n4g"><a target="_self" class=" UFICommentActorName" dir="ltr" href="https://www.facebook.com/kimberlynpage?fref=ufi" id="js_7ck" name="js_7ck">Kim Page</a> Thank you for sharing this. God just used you to speak to my heart in a very precise way. Love your heart and your faith. Thank you!</span></span></span></div>
<div><span><span class="UFICommentBody"><span class="UFICommentBody _1n4g"><a target="_self" class=" UFICommentActorName" dir="ltr" href="https://www.facebook.com/brad.fox.338?fref=ufi" id="js_9hm" name="js_9hm">Brad Fox</a> You have spoken love into my life many times Kim! Love you and what you do for your guys and for our world!</span></span></span></div> Love's the Only Housetag:ashford-edu651.ning.com,2017-02-18:4171967:Topic:165012017-02-18T21:58:06.754ZBrad Foxhttp://ashford-edu651.ning.com/profile/BradFox
<p><span class="font-size-2"><img alt="Image result for love's the only house" class="align-center" height="290" src="https://quotefancy.com/media/wallpaper/1600x900/1016117-Martina-Mcbride-Quote-Love-s-the-only-house-big-enough-for-all-the.jpg" width="516"></img></span></p>
<p style="text-align: left;"><span class="font-size-2">I never cease to be astonished by the ability of artists to capture messages of the Spirit. A song of Martina McBride's has had a profound effect upon me. You can view it here:…</span></p>
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<p><span class="font-size-2"><img src="https://quotefancy.com/media/wallpaper/1600x900/1016117-Martina-Mcbride-Quote-Love-s-the-only-house-big-enough-for-all-the.jpg" alt="Image result for love's the only house" width="516" height="290" class="align-center"/></span></p>
<p style="text-align: left;"><span class="font-size-2">I never cease to be astonished by the ability of artists to capture messages of the Spirit. A song of Martina McBride's has had a profound effect upon me. You can view it here:</span></p>
<p style="text-align: left;"><span class="font-size-2"><iframe width="329" height="185" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/gzM_lxnzi64?wmode=opaque" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe>
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<p style="text-align: left;"><span class="font-size-2"><a href="http://static.ning.com/socialnetworkmain/widgets/lib/js/tiny_mce/themes/advanced/img/trans.gif" target="_blank" rel="noopener"><img src="http://static.ning.com/socialnetworkmain/widgets/lib/js/tiny_mce/themes/advanced/img/trans.gif?width=224" width="224" class="align-right"/></a></span></p>
<p style="text-align: left;"><span class="font-size-2">When Martina sings those lyrics, I am stupefied by the depth of meaning there:</span></p>
<div class="xpdxpnd"><span class="font-size-2"><em>And I can't explain it and I can't understand</em></span><br/> <span class="font-size-2"><em>But I'll come down and get my hands dirty and together we'll make a stand...</em></span><br/> <span class="font-size-2"><em>...City streets are gonna burn if we don't do something soon</em></span><br/> <span class="font-size-2"><em>And senorita can't quit cryin', baby's due now any day</em></span><br/> <span class="font-size-2"><em>Don Juan left, got sick of tryin'</em></span><br/> <span class="font-size-2"><em>No one there to show him the way</em></span><br/> <span class="font-size-2"><em>She came down to the grocery store and</em></span><br/> <span class="font-size-2"><em>She said I, I wanna buy a little carton of milk but I don't have any money</em></span><br/> <span class="font-size-2"><em>I said hey I'll cover you honey cause...</em></span></div>
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<div class="xpdxpnd"><span class="font-size-2"><em><strong>the pain's gotta go somewhere</strong></em></span><br/> <span class="font-size-2"><strong><em>Yeah the pain's gotta go someplace</em></strong></span><br/> <span class="font-size-2"><strong><em>So come on down to my house</em></strong></span><br/> <span class="font-size-2"><strong><em>Don't you know that</em></strong></span></div>
<div class="xpdxpnd"><span class="font-size-2"><strong><em>Love's the only house big enough for all the pain in the world</em></strong></span><br/> <span class="font-size-2"><strong><em>Love's the only house big enough for all the pain</em></strong></span></div>
<div class="xpdxpnd"><span class="font-size-2"><br/> Martina sings of relationships broken and restored. Pain so great, so excruciating that it can only be escaped through the sheltering of love. She offers her love as a dwelling place; a house...Wow! Can this be so?</span></div>
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<div class="xpdxpnd"><span class="font-size-2">If you think back to a classic novel and play entitled "<em>Les Miserables</em>" you realize that Martina is simply echoing a grace theme that has played down through the ages. In that story, Jean val Jean's adoptive daughter Cosette is explaining to her handsome young suitor that..."<em>my father is a good man; I grew up in his love; his love is my home!</em>" <img src="http://favim.com/media/uploads/images/orig/140304/cosette-les-mis-les-miserables-marius-pontmercy-Favim.com-1444752.jpg" alt="Image result for cosette Marius Pontmercy les miserables" width="191" height="283" class="align-center"/></span></div>
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<div class="xpdxpnd"><span class="font-size-2">Imagine, a man on the run from the law who has to constantly be on the move to avoid arrest, is somehow capable of providing a feeling of "home" for this young woman without any certainty of where tomorrow's shelter may lie. </span></div>
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<div class="xpdxpnd"><span class="font-size-2">The original thought echoed in these two artistic pieces was Jesus' teaching that our home is in the person of Himself. A home that can be ours now and throughout eternity. A home that meets all our needs for comfort, security, and love. He said “In my Father’s house are many mansions: if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again, and receive you unto myself; that where I am, there ye may be also.” (<a href="http://concordexpress.christianscience.com/?query=John%2014:2,%203" target="_blank" rel="noopener">John 14:2, 3</a>). The Father's love is the only "house" big enough for all the pain in the world! Mansions of love prepared for every person who knows and loves Him. <br/></span></div>
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<p style="text-align: left;"><span class="font-size-2">These thoughts were in my mind as I recently went to a community forum in Oceanside which dealt with the ongoing social, political and economic challenges of homelessness in that community. I was there out of personal interest developed through my interactions with homeless people during my church's urban mission trips to inner city San Diego which I organize and lead. I was at the forum to gain perspective about how I can personally engage the homeless, understand their plight and address their needs. Also, I wanted to help my own community of Fallbrook understand the problem and perhaps begin a dialogue about how to meet the needs of our own homeless population. </span></p>
<p style="text-align: left;"><span class="font-size-2">A panel of experts introduced themselves and the work that they do for the homeless, as well as their perspective on the problems and opportunities they envision in working with that group. When a call for audience questions and comments was made, a senior woman remarked that she wished "we could give each homeless person a plane ticket home" to rid ourselves of their burdens. </span></p>
<p style="text-align: left;"><span class="font-size-2"><em>I was shocked</em>.</span></p>
<p style="text-align: left;"><span class="font-size-2">I couldn't believe that anyone would have the audacity to express such an oversimplified solution to a difficult, complex people-problem in a such a public place. I was embarrassed by her insensitivity and ignorance. Panel and audience members countered her hurtful remarks with a calmness and understanding that perhaps she didn't deserve but nevertheless reflected well upon their own gracious spirits.</span></p>
<p style="text-align: left;"><span class="font-size-2">Later, there were comments made about providing centralized tent communities, transitional housing and the federal <em>Housing First</em> program that has had wonderful reviews from participating communities. It seems to me that such programs see homelessness as a matter of "carpentry." And indeed, houses are a significant part of the solution. The panel shared that rent prices are at all time highs, as vacancies are historically low. The housing market in San Diego city and the county as well present formidable obstacles to providing a house for people without a home. But it dawned on me that with a homeless population of some 10,000 people in the county, we could easily accommodate them by inviting them into our spare bedrooms! So to me, while the housing problem is a necessary component of any solution that addresses homelessness, it is not in itself sufficient to solve the problem. For that, people need a <em><span style="text-decoration: underline;">home</span></em>.</span></p>
<p style="text-align: left;"><span class="font-size-2">As the evening progressed, thoughtful professionals and community members worked their way forward to define the homelessness problem and brainstorm about what worked and didn't work. Slowly, through communal effort, people began to recognize that the homeless were having difficulty accessing the services offered to them. While issues of health, safety, transportation, feeding, mentoring, education, and disabilities were clarified, it became clear that homeless people can't access services over time; that once they commit to getting help, the social systems are not able to give them immediate service. Participants and panel members wondered whether a "hub" or "one stop" model of services might meet homeless' needs in a more organized and timely manner. </span></p>
<p style="text-align: left;"><span class="font-size-2">Some homeless people have difficulty remembering and then making their way to future appointments. Others forget to take their medications or lose them. Some simply don't know what to ask for in terms of help. They can't get to their appointments. Their lives are disorganized and they don't have the personal resources or support systems to enable them to get out of poverty. Kind of like the infirm, sick man at the pool of Bethesda who couldn't get into the healing waters fast enough!!!</span></p>
<p style="text-align: left;"><span class="font-size-2">It was a breakthrough moment, when forum participants realized that our best efforts were being thwarted by the realities of life on the streets. We realized that by seeing the world through homeless eyes we were better able to understand and support them. </span></p>
<p style="text-align: left;"><span class="font-size-2">Soon, two exceptional people added their voices and experience to the dialogue. </span></p>
<p style="text-align: left;"><span class="font-size-2">One, a young woman, expressed the difficulty of addressing her mentally ill brother's homelessness. She shared her fear and frustration of not knowing the right questions to ask nor of whom to ask them. She spoke of the emotional toll of just dealing with his illness and his inability to advocate for himself. She pleaded quite tenderly and eloquently for people to understand the pain involved not only in dealing with a homeless family member, but also dealing with the societal condemnation she felt on her brother's behalf. </span></p>
<p style="text-align: left;"><span class="font-size-2">Then, quite unexpectedly, a middle-aged man named Dan rose and spoke about his own homeless experience. He said that he himself had been a raging substance abuser who lived on the streets in filthy conditions often appearing naked in public. He, too, couldn't advocate for himself even when he </span><span style="font-size: 13.3333px;">was</span><span style="font-size: 13.3333px;"> </span><span style="font-size: 10pt;">rarely taking his appropriate medications. It took the work of family mentoring and sheltering to counsel and restore him to the point where he now heads his own shelter for people with mental illness issues. He is the author of seven books. He completed a college degree. And he has been restored to become a vital component of the Oceanside community.</span></p>
<p style="text-align: left;"><span class="font-size-2">Something dramatic changed with their testimonies.</span></p>
<p style="text-align: left;"><span class="font-size-2">People in the auditorium now had a face and a story to relate to homelessness. They had stepped into the shoes of homeless people and their families. They came to see homelessness as more than a problem to be solved; a project to be completed. Homelessness is a relationship to be restored. And the homeless themselves are part of the solution. They know each other's needs. They know what works and doesn't. They know how to direct the system and each of us to give our best effort. They don't need an airplane ticket out; they need an open, welcoming heart. They need a <em>home </em>big enough to take away all the pain! A home we can make with the capacious love of the Father.</span></p>
<p style="text-align: left;"><span class="font-size-2">It was a magnificent, edifying way to end the forum!</span></p>
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