A Day in the Life of: My Mother

My mother is the best. Best in the whole, wide world! I love my mom!

My mom is smart. But that doesn't really mean much when a better word like 'wise' can be used. I love how my mom is always able to see the probable effects of a decision, before the decision is made! I love how she gives us advice regarding decisions, but leaves us to make the decision ourselves. (And she's always right about the effects!)

I love how my mom utilizes the resources at hand, whether they're the conventional tools for the project or not! Like the time she raked the leaves off the lawn with a broom. Or duct taped the holey, woolly, feather-stuffed blanket. And all the other numerous times when her children cried out in pure admiration, "Wow mom, you're so clever!"

I love my mom's sense of humor, particularly when she's helping us see where we made a mistake. It's never fun to get yelled at. Mom doesn't do that. She lovely guides us to a point where we can see for ourselves that we made a mistake, and usually, she has us laughing all along the way.

I love my mom's wonderful insight into Scripture and the walk of life. Most of the time, when she points something out, I have to say, 'huh! I never saw that before!" I love how she is a living example of her insights. One of her favorite verses is Proverbs 31:26, "She openeth her mouth with wisdom; and in her tongue is the law of kindness." Truly, as it says in verse 28, "Her children arise up and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praiseth her.

(This has been: A Day in the Life of: My Mother. Look in next time to read something else!)

A Day in the Life of: Dave Dravecky

I try to intersperse my mini-bios with people from the past and people from the present. Although Dave Dravecky's moment of fame was in the past, he still lives, so I'm counting him as from the present. Older baseball fans might even remember him. I came to admire Mr. Dravecky after reading his book, Comeback. I've never been a big sports fan. I enjoy some sports such as volleyball, Frisbee, basketball, and I'm beginning to like soccor. But I'm not a serious player and I'm not a fan-atic; you know, one of those people who idolize the sports figures. I just like to play, hope I do a good job, and have fun. If I'm watching a game, I like to watch, have fun, and not-too-seriously hope that the Mariners or the Sea Hawks win; or whatever team my friends are on. (Not that I've ever watched the Sea Hawks play. Wait. I did. I watched the final play of a supposedly famous game last year on TV. (No clue why it was famous.) It was very exciting. They hunched over in the middle of the field, some sort of a whistle thing blew. The commentator said something about their being enough time for one more play. The players dispersed and huddled up around their coach guy things, and then they went and hunched over in the middle of the field again, and then there was a little running (no sign of the football) and then the game was over ! whoo-hoo! Sea Hawks win!) Of the major games, baseball is my favorite because at the very least I understand a bit of how it's played. But, I've never played myself; only watched others. So, that ought to explain why I don't necessarily admire Dave Dravecky as a great baseball player, (although he was a good one) but rather as a person who is living, and has lived a rich Christian life. I admire his obedience to God, his courage and strength to overcome more than his screaming pitches and fast balls. (Actually, Dravecky was a control pitcher. He really didn't throw fast balls. He was better-known for throwing the ball exactly where he wanted it.) Dave Dravecky's dream was to make it to the big leagues. In spite of that, almost everyone thought that he was only good enough for the minor leagues. They told him he wouldn't make it. It only inspired him to try harder. The Padres called him up from the minor leagues in 1982. Actually, let me back up a little. Two major things happened while Dave was in the minor leagues. First, the Pirates offered to send Dave to play in Colombia. (the country, not the district.) He went with his wife Janice and experienced exactly the opposite of what he was expecting. He expected tropical beaches and exotic Latin sights, instead, they experienced misery in the shape of sickness, (due to bad food and water), guys with automatic guns on all the corners, and extreme poverty. For both his wife and himself, the experience changed their perspectives in two different ways. For his wife, who had been brought up to believe that God was just a kind old grandfather figure who watched over the world, the trip destroyed that image. She couldn't understand that 'a good God would allow bad things like poverty to happen.' She drew away from God temporarily. In the end, it turned out that she needed that image destroyed in order to make way for the correct image. For Dave, a Catholic who believed himself to be saved, the trip made him begin to rethink things. It made him realize, or at least become open to, the possibility that he needed God. He began to draw closer to God. The second thing that happened while Dave was in the minor leagues was that he, and his wife, became saved. A year or so after the trip to Columbia, (Dave actually took two trips, the second without his wife. So we're talking shortly after Dave came back from his equally bad second trip) the Pirates sent Dave to Texas. There, Dave's roommate was a devout Christian. After watching his roommate 'like a hawk,' Dave decided that he wanted to make a commitment for Christ. His wife came to Texas a few weeks later. They made the commitment together a few months later. In light of later events, both realized that their salvation was the important thing, not the limelights. Dave was traded by the Padres to the Giants, where he spent the rest of his baseball career. Dave was a good pitcher and he loved the game. What I like about his story, is how God reached thousands of people through him in an unlikely, unprecedented way. Dave noticed the lump in his pitching arm late in 1987. He thought nothing of it. It wasn't for another year that it made its presence really known. Laid up with a sore arm for a few days, he happened to mention the lump to his fitness rehab manager guy. The man recommended that it get looked at by a doctor, so that's what Dave did. In 1988, Dave heard the word 'tumor' for the first time. It was found to be malignant, but not a particularly life-threatening type right then. In the end, the doctors took out fifty percent of Dave's deltoid muscle. (Whatever that is.) In essence, they took away 95 percent of the muscle's ability to function. Dave was told several things. First, he would never be able to pitch again, he might not even be able to throw anything again. Second, he was told he probably would not be able to lift his arm over his head for a very long time or take his wallet out of his back pocket. Third, because of the way the surgery was done, the bone would be very brittle and likely to break for a while. (Because it was a relatively new procedure, the doctors were unsure as to how long the bone would be brittle. Their estimate turned out to be wrong.) Dave was able to both lift his arm over his head and remove his wallet in a matter of weeks. Doctors told his wife, 'short of a miracle, Dave will never pitch again.' The day Dave was able to remove his wallet from his pocket Dave was also able to demonstrate his pitching motion. I like this quote from the book that Dave told his doctor: "If I never play again, Doc, I'll know that God has someplace else he wants me. But I'll tell you something else. I believe in a God who can do miracles. If you remove half my deltoid muscle, that doesn't mean I'll never pitch again. If you remove all of my muscle, it doesn't mean I'll never pitch again. If God wants me to pitch, I'll be out there." Dave was able to pitch again. Not only that, he was able to pitch in the major leagues. It was a game to be remembered in baseball history. It was a time when fans came, not to see a game, but to see the guy in it who was living proof that you can overcome tough things. As the day approached, new dimensions were added. A pledge challenge was begun for 6-year-old Alex Vlahos. Alex was a cancer patient who needed a bone marrow transplant. Dave had become friends with Alex. As the big game approached, fans pledged x amount of dollars per pitch. Alex was able to get his treatment. (The challenge was not begun by Dave, but Dave fully supported it.) Dave pitched one of his best games ever. And then another dimension was added. Because of his amazing, miraculous comeback, Dave had the incredible opportunity to share his faith to the millions on TV via the reporters. Dave said "that doesn't happen often." On his next game, yet another dimension happened. Through it, God reached more people. Dave's arm broke exactly like the doctors had warned might happen. When Dave made his comeback, he was able to tell reporters that God had made it possible. When Dave broke his arm, he was able to tell reporters that the big picture was not what had just happened, but rather that it had begun with his salvation in Texas. In Dave's words, he couldn't just tell these people that the God who had just worked a miracle, was now doing an un-miracle. It was merely a new step towards reaching more people with the message that the God who can do such miracles is the God who gave Dave his God-glorifying perspective on the perceived un-miracle. (whew, that was a long sentence. Go ahead, read it a couple more times!) Really, that's what I like about his book, Comeback. It shows the big picture. I like the word vicissitude. It means 'the ups and downs of life.' In reality, as Dave saw it, each up and each down are a small part of life that set the stage for the next part. Particularly, each down sets the stage for the even bigger up. It's a good perspective to have. Dave hoped to make a second comeback. However, his cancer returned shortly after the breakage. The rest of the muscle and part of the triceps were removed. While the particular cancer was not an immediate killer, it was a type which is the most likely to return no matter what. Dave now has a ministry of speaking; of telling his story to those around. His cancer returned several times and his arm, parts of his collarbone, and his shoulder blade were amputated as the cancer began to take on a more life-threatening aspect. Dave operates his ministry from Colorado and speaks about both his famous story, and the less famous story of what it has meant to to grow in the Lord through his story. He has also written several more books including: When you can't Comeback, and The Worth of a Man. Unfortunately, I have yet to read these. Comeback however, I definitely recommend. (This has been: A Day in the Life of: Dave Dravecky. Look in next time to read: Snippets of:__)

A Day in the Life of: George Mueller

The biography of George Mueller was the first biography I ever liked, and the only for a very long time. He continues to be one of my favorite people. I find his life to inspiring, not because of his outstanding work with orphans, but because of his incredible faith in God.

George Mueller began as a ne'er-do-well. At the age of ten, he was discovered by his father, a tax collector, to be stealing small amounts of the government money which he, the father, often left in the house. After the just punishment received from his father, George promised himself it would never happen again. But instead of promising not to steal again, George was promising himself not to get caught again.

At age fourteen, George's mother died. When his father found him to say that his mother was dying, George was gambling and drinking with his friends. He did not return to the house until after he had finished his poker game. By then, it was too late.

When his father decided to send him to the best university in Prussia, (now Germany) George was excited, until he learned that he would have a tutor who would stick to him like glue. Without his father's permission or knowledge, George applied and was accepted to a lesser, pre-university school, much like our community colleges today. There, George lived what he called the 'high life' but we Christians would refer to it as the 'low life.' Afterwards, his father again offered to send him to the university, this time without the tutor. At Halle University, George studied divinity. George did not study this for any religious reasons but merely because at the time, being a Lutheran minister was very lucrative. For a while, George studied without gambling and drinking, but after meeting an old friend he returned to the bars, where he regaled his friends with 'hilarious' stories of his early sinful life.

Then, one day, George met another old friend, Beta. Beta had gone to the same pre-university and had had a reputation for being a religious geek. Now, Beta, for some reason or other, had decided that he was done with religion. George took him under his wing and led him farther astray from the straight and narrow road.

Later in the year however, Beta turned around again and refused to join George at the bar. Embarrassed, he explained that he was going to a Bible study. George suddenly saw himself telling his friends at the bar the latest hilarious story, of the time when he went to a Bible study. To Beta's dismay, George went along. There, he found himself drawn in in spite of himself. George was particularly impressed with the leader of the group who talked as if God was in the room and who actually got on his knees to pray. Several weeks, and many meetings later, George offered his life to God.

George gave up his wild way of life, and shortly afterwards felt God calling him to the mission field. The first thing he did was to tell his father that he no longer wanted to study at Halle University. The matter caused a long but temporary rift between the two. Nevertheless, George felt the release from his father's purse-strings to be a relief. That is, until he discovered that now he had no money and could not get himself money in his former sly and unethical manner. It was his first test of faith after the initial step of salvation. At his wits end, George decided to do something he felt was childish and that a grown man would never do; pray on his knees. Within an hour after his prayer, George had both a job and a place to stay. He was ever after a firm believer in the power of prayer. Throughout the rest of his life, George was sustained almost entirely by prayer. He believed and lived as though God would provide, and He did.

In his next test of prayer, George discovered the important truth that God doesn't always provide in the way we expect. George was accepted into a London Missionary School, where he intended to study for going to China. (This was the circumstance God used to get him to England where he lived the rest of his life. He gave up China after three months). Unfortunately, Prussian law required all able men to join the military for two to five years. George knew that this delay was not in God's plan for him, so he prayed that somehow he would be made exempt. In answer, George became desperately sick. When he felt better over a month later, he went to the recruiter. When the doctor examined him however, George was exempted. While he felt fine at the moment, the doctor saw that his recent sickness would never truly go away. (It didn't. George was afflicted with recurrences for the rest of his life.)

In England, George met and married Mary Groves. He became pastor for a short time in a small church near London. At the time, pastors all over the world got their salary from a system called 'pew rent.' After a time, God led George to abolish this practice in the church. Thus, the entirety of George's salary was cut dramatically. At the same time, he was convicted by Scripture that he and his wife owned too many things. He and his wife sold all of their belongings. In spite of this, God always provided. Once, they sat down to the empty table and prayed over the absent food. As they finished their prayer, a neighbor brought over a whole ham.

Later, George went to minister in Bristol, England. There he pastored without a salary at Gideon Chapel and Pithay Chapel jointly with his close friend, Henry Craik. A cholera epidemic swept the city and George's attention was suddenly captured by what would be come his life's work. Thousands of orphans lived in Bristol and after the epidemic, thousands more joined those already there. He began to offer breakfast at his home for the orphans. Every day over sixty orphans plus adults ate breakfast for free. While they ate, George read from the Bible.

Nevertheless, George saw that while caring for 60 orphans was a start, it wasn't enough. In February, 1836, George opened a girl's orphanage for ages seven to twelve. At that time, there were only ten or twelve orphanages in all of England, and only one accepted all orphans including poor and/or deformed ones. Within five years, George had added three more orphanages to the first one. About that time however, he began receiving complaints from the neighbors. Four orphanages on the same residential street just would not work.

By prayer, he was led to purchase a property outside of the city. There he built a huge orphanage. George, who had never had an income since that day when God had told him to give it up, built it and the four subsequent even bigger orphanages debt-free. In the end, George and his wife were caring for over two thousand orphans. Over and over again, the money would run out. At times the children sat down to empty tables. Every time, George prayed, and food would arrive. One such time, a milk truck broke down just outside their property and the milkman asked them to lighten his load. At the same time, a local baker confessed that the previous night he couldn't sleep until he had baked three batches of bread for the orphans. George's prayers were answered every time; often from complete strangers or people across the world.

In 1870, Mary Mueller died. After a few years, George married Susannah Sanger in his mid-sixties. Together, they continued the legacy George and Mary had begun. The two went through 17 years of book-writing and tours. On each tour, the impact of George's faith spread. During these times, George lost both his daughter and his second wife. He returned to live in Bristol and continued to care for the orphans. His son-in-law became the real head of the orphanages however, and more and more of George's time was spent in prayer. Then, one day, George died. He was 93 years old. He was survived by his son-in-law and his granddaughter. He had run the orphanages for 63 years on prayer and faith. Not only that, but George, who rarely had more than a few hundred English pounds in his hand for more than a few days, was able, through prayer, to support other ministries. The one and a half million English pounds that had passed through his hands during his lifetime were never used on himself and never used for any other purpose than that for which they had been donated. At least a quarter of this money was used for supporting missionaries and distributing Bibles. The rest was used for other ministries and the orphanages. In one time of need, he supported the entirety of the China Inland Mission. In his lifetime he had cared for over ten thousand orphans, most of whom were spiritually impacted by him in a positive manner.

Through the power of prayer one man was able to minister to thousands upon thousands of people, young and old. The story of his life continues to impact people today. May we also learn to live so dependently on God, that, like George Mueller, nothing will phase us, because we know that God will provide for our every need.

**Books about George Mueller: George Mueller: the Guardian of Bristol's Orphans by Janet & Geoff Benge. Autobiographies of George Mueller: A Life of Trust, and A Million and a Half in Answer to prayer, by George Mueller.

(This has been A Day in the Life of: George Mueller. Look in next time to read: Snippets of:__)

A Day in the Life of: Sgt. R__

One of my favorite people that I actually know is an elderly gentleman in my church. He's like another grandpa. Besides being kindly and intelligent, he's also an excellent story teller. And the great thing is that his stories are true. I considered recording his stories and perhaps I still might sometime. Unfortunately, I couldn't find a tape-recorder. So, while I can't tell his stories with quite the impact that he tells them, I'll do my best, because they're worth telling. His are the stories which can inspire and amuse generations to come, but only if they're written down.

If you knew Mr. R__ today, you would never believe that he could ever have been anything other than a wonderful, gentle and meek man. He was however, when a younger man, a very colorful character with a colorful life that comes with all non-Christian Army drill instructors, Army Sergeants, and Police chiefs.

Sgt. R__ tells this story of his time as an Army Sgt. during WWII. He was a squadron leader of tanks, and they were practicing with the 10th group of something or other. The 10th group of something or other used jeeps with rocket launchers. Sgt. R__ and the tanks under him would practice fighting the 10th group rocket launchers. They used duds for practice, not live rockets.

Each time, after the practice was over, the two groups would leave the field. Usually, the tanks went first. 10th group had a 'twisted' sense of humor. As the Sgt. R__'s tanks would leave the field, the 10th group would launch blank rockets at the tanks. Even a blank rocket is nothing to laugh at. They made huge noises, and packed an even larger wallop.

After a time of enduring this harassment, Sgt. R__ had a fantastic idea. All soldiers were issued cans of pork and beans for their meals. With his fellow soldiers, Sgt. R__ opened these cans and poured them out into a couple of empty shells. Then, they put masking tape over the top of the shells to hold the pork and beans in until it was time.

Then, after practice, they started off the field. As usual, the soldiers in the jeeps launched their duds and then raced off ahead of the tanks laughing. The men in the tanks ducked, the duds hit, the men in the tanks got up, and Sgt. R__ loaded the 'live' cartridges. He cranked the gun on his tank down, waited until the jeeps were in his sights and then...BAM! out of the barrel flew a couple of cans worth of pork and beans! DEAD ON!!! The joke was on the other guys.

The way Mr. R__ tells it, it was worth a million bucks to see the looks on their faces.

"Whoso diggeth a pit shall fall therein; And he that rolleth a stone, it shall return upon him." Proverbs 26:27

(This has been: A Day in the Life of: Sgt. R__. Look in next time to read: Snippets of__)

A Day in the Life of: "General" Harriet "Moses" Araminta Tubman (Davis)

One wouldn't have thought that an 11th child and slave named Araminta would have become so very famous; but, she did. Born Araminta Ross in Maryland, she took her mother's name, Harriet, sometime in her early adulthood. As a slave, her exact birth date is unknown, but is probably 1820 or 1821. Like most slaves, she was illiterate and remained so for her entire life.

At age five, she was loaned out to a neighboring plantation. There, she became so ill that she was returned to her home. This did not stop her owner, Edward Brodas. When she recovered from her illness she was again loaned out. By age 12 she was working as a field hand. At age 13, already a fiery individual, she was brutally hurt in the head for defending a runaway slave. Her head wound resulted in lifelong narcoleptic seizures. (I had to look it up. A narcoleptic seizure is "a condition characterized by frequent, uncontrollable periods of deep sleep.")

Around the time she turned 25, Harriet gained permission from her owners to marry John Tubman. Tubman was an unworthy man. Although Harriet married Nelson Davis much later in life, Tubman is the name by which she is recognized.

Even in her early 20s, Harriet dreamed of freedom. When her master died in 1849, Harriet heard rumors that she and her brothers would be sold to a chain gang. With her brothers, Harriet began her journey North. Her brothers however, became frightened and returned to the plantation. Harriet continued alone. She traveled only at night and at last, she reached Pennsylvania. There, she found work cooking and cleaning. She used the money to finance rescue trips.

Before the Civil War, Harriet rescued helped to free over three hundred slaves, including her parents and four siblings. She became deeply involved in the Underground Railroad, was good friends with Thomas Garret and the dubious John Brown, and was nicknamed "Moses" for her strikingly similar task.

Harriet was a persuasive woman. Not one of those she escorted to freedom returned (like her brothers originally), not one was captured or lost. This of course, may have been partially because she threatened her escapees with death if they even thought about surrendering or returning. After she gain her freedom she accomplished over twenty hazardous missions in which she returned secretly to the South, contacted slaves, and escorted them sometimes as far North as Canada.

As her fame spread, slave owners offered a huge $40,000 reward for her capture. While she never got caught by anyone, her own illiteracy nearly gave the game away. Harriet fell asleep underneath her own wanted poster. By the beginning of the Civil War, Harriet was a dominant force in the abolitionist movement.

During the Civil War, in which she plotted with John Brown, Harriet worked as a nurse, cook, scout, and spy for the Federalists. For her bravery and courage before and during the war, John Brown nicknamed her "General" Tubman. She referred to John Brown late in life as one of her dearest friends.

After the war, Harriet transformed her home into a nursing home for local aged colored people.
As she grew older, Harriet made arrangement for the African Methodist Episcopal Zion Church to take over the management of the Home. She herself was admitted to the Home in 1911. She died as a 90-something-year-old in 1913.

Harriet was honored posthumously by Eleanor Roosevelt and the United States Postal Service.

Disclaimer: While Harriet Tubman was brave and heroic in her rescue and spy services, the author of this article does not necessarily condone John Brown. John Brown only appears in this post as a friend of Harriet.

(This has been A Day in the Life of: Harriet Tubman. Look in next time to read: Snippets of:__)

A Day in the Life of: Colonel David "Mickey" Marcus

"Hi, I'm Mickey Marcus, but you must never call me that. Here, in Palestine, I am Mickey Stone. Got it?"

After the Biblical scattering of the Jews before and during the World Wars, the Jews were at last released from concentration camps etc. throughout the world after the Second World War. Deprived of their former homes, the Jews had no place to go after the release and gradually, a new hope and dream began to inspire them all. The historically and culturally rich significance of Jerusalem was calling the Jews throughout the world, and most answered that call. As Christians, we all know that the Biblical regathering of the Jews was accomplished in 1948 when the Jews became a nation once again. Many of us however, are unaware of some of the most exciting events that occurred to bring the Jews to the point where they could declare themselves a nation.

In the intervening time before the Jews returned to Palestine, the Arab people had come into the beautiful land and claimed it for their own. When the Jews returned, something, or someone, had to give place. There wasn't room for two nations in the tiny country.

The Arabs were well supplied with weapons and supplies. Not only this, but the British were biased towards them. The British at the time were executing a withdrawal from Palestine. The Jews had returned to their historic homeland immediately after a period of helplessness and despair. As prisoners, they had owned nothing in the shape of weapons. They had not fought against anyone in such a long time that they had few ideas about how to manage and create an army, let alone an army that would defeat the well-equipped Arabs. David Ben-Gurion, and the other leaders of the Jewish people, knew that they needed the help of a real military advisor. For this reason, they turned towards the recently victorious country of America.

Mickey Marcus, after an extremely successful and colorful career in the military during WWII, had turned down the offer of brigadier-general and returned to his very beloved wife, Emmy, or "Snippy," and a successful law practice. He was interrupted one day by Major Shamir, from Palestine.

Mickey was a go-getter kind of guy. If somebody needed something, he didn't sit around talking about the problem and the various solutions. Instead, he got started doing something to fix it; immediately. When Major Shamir asked Mickey to help the Jewish people find a military expert, Mickey instantly called up all of his qualified friends. None of the viable options he came up with however were available. In the meantime, Major Shamir was sizing Mickey up. The Major was impressed with Mickey's quickness of action, his ability to see a situation from all its angles, and his willingness to help with all of his energy. Mickey was startled when he was asked to consider going to Palestine to help.

The idea however, grabbed his mind and would not leave. He fretted about how to tell his wife. But his wife eventually came around to his views. Mickey needed to be doing something for a cause.

Because of the British occupation, Mickey had to go under another name; thus, Mickey Stone was born. If it became known that an American officer was helping the "insurgents and rebels," American and British relations would go down the hole. That would be bad.

Mickey had planned to take the relevant parts of the American military manual with him, or have them shipped undercover when he arrived. Unfortunately, his undercover contacts for that part had to lie low. Instead, Mickey began memorizing huge portions of the manual. When he arrived in Palestine, he instantly jumped into the work of re-writing the manual from memory. The Jews were astonished. Mickey was one of those fortunate people who could escape with only a few hours of sleep. He was on the go almost 24-7. He not only met and advised the Jewish officials such as his "Boss" David Ben-Gurion, and other leaders of the Haganah and Palmach, but he also took the time to visit with the actual soldiers. The Jews appreciated his out-going helpful but teach-able attitude. Many other "experts" had told them things like "Put two battalions of tanks here, machine guns there." Mickey was the only one who came and used the resources which they already had. As Mickey said, why use what you haven't and can't get. Mickey came to help, but he knew that European modern warfare doesn't always work in the desert. (Much like the American Colonials and General Braddock). He was willing to be taught the methods that were viable for Palestine.

Before Mickey arrived, the Jews' fighting method was strictly individualistic. They used night raids, usually with only 1-3 people striking at one place. While it worked for the time being to keep the lines defended, attack by the modernly-equipped United Arab League was imminent. Mickey saw that individual attacks would not be enough to stem the tide. He liked to use the example of a finger versus a fist. "Look Boss, if I poke you with my finger, or even all five finger, but separately, it doesn't hurt. But if you put the fingers together like this...WAM!" Mickey's examples were always apt, even to the very different culture he was in. Within a few weeks, they all loved him.

The Haganah and Palmach leaders were anxious to get a real army going, and Mickey was too. However, he did realize that time was getting short. Unfortunately, he felt the Jews were being a little too impatient when they said they wanted a fully trained army within a month. "Make it six" Mickey said. After a little argument, Mickey relented, "All right, three, no less." The Jews still wanted it sooner. "Listen," Mickey replied, "how long does it take for a woman to make a baby?"

"Nine months,"

"Right, and what happens if she has it in four?"

This time, the Jews relented.

And so, in about three months, with the help of Mickey's prodigious energy, the makings of a real army began to show through. After a trip home, where Mickey pulled strings to ensure that the U.S. would recognize an Israeli state, Mickey returned to Palestine to help some more. He promised his wife he'd be back in June. He was, but not in the way they both thought. Always one to visit the front lines and be with the 'boys' (literally, some of them) he was killed by friendly fire a few weeks later. His body was shipped to America a few day's later in June.

Colonel David "Mickey Marcus was the only soldier buried at West Point while fighting under a foreign flag. A champion boxer, trusted Pentagon aide, one of the few who actually put together the surrender terms for WWII, one of the first parachuters (clandestinely) to land on D-day, cleanser of the New York corrupted Tammany jails, and possessor of numerous medals, Colonel Marcus was killed in Palestine on June 11, not 10 feet from where his name-sake, the David of the Bible, had danced after Goliath. Without him, Israel may not have been. Almost single-handedly, (figuratively speaking) he had won the Israeli War of Independence. According to David Ben-Gurion, "he was the best man we ever had."

You can read more about him in Cast a Giant Shadow, by Ted Berkman. It is an excellent book.

(This has been: A Day in the Life of: Colonel David "Mickey" Marcus. Look in next time to read: Snippets of:__)

A Day in the Life of: Mrs. W___

A lady I know told this story from her life. It just goes to show you that you never know what kind of excitement you can have when all you're doing is growing a nice little garden.

Mrs. W__ lives on tiny piece of property which is completely covered in a tiny, but variegated and fruitful garden. Life was good. The garden was growing well. And, she didn't have rabbits. (Ah, woe is me, those rabbits are the terror of my garden).

Yes, everything was just dandy! (Isn't that always the way it is before something happened to change it)? Because, of course, it is inevitable that one's days are never always filled with peace and tranquility. The scene of the beautiful, quiet, garden, was destroyed in "a moment, in the twinkling of an eye."

One morning, Mrs. W__ discovered signs of cats in her garden. While, as far as I know, cats do not actually eat the produce from a garden, they do not pick through it daintily and walk on the designated paths. As you know, cats have always been known as independent little animals. Instead of walking on the paths, they caused problems in the form of trampled plants. Furthermore, cats use gardens as litterboxes. Cat litter is highly toxic and completely ruins the soil of the garden. For an avid gardener, this is not permissible.

Mrs. W__ decided to trap them; and one morning, she caught one. I do feel sorry for the owner. It was only at great expense that the owner was able to redeem her property.

Mrs. W__ continued to leave her trap out and baited each night. However, she didn't bargain for what she got. She was disturbed from her sleep early one morning by an obnoxious racket proceeding from her front porch. Naturally, she went to see what it was. She was confronted by a caged raccoon snarling viciously. The sheets with which the cage had been draped to make it inviting were torn to shreds.

She called several places to find out what to do, including the police. Her next door neighbor was matter-of-fact. "You have to open the cage and let it go!" The policeman however, upon arriving, agreed with Mrs. W__. "No one is going near the cage without a ten-foot pole."

Finally, Mrs. W__ got a hold of the same organization which had taken care of the caged cat. They had a wildlife department and took the raccoon away. The next-door neighbor however had "looked it up online." "You can't do that!" he said. "It's illegal to transport a wild animal!" Thankfully, the policeman was able to reassure him.

The raccoon was a mother with babies however. The authorities decided that she needed to go back to them. The raccoon was released near Mrs. W__'s property later that day. The authorities insisted that the raccoon had learned her lesson and would not be back. I think she has her doubts.

Mrs. W__ laughed the entire time she was telling me this story. Obviously, she found the story amusing once it was over. While a hectic morning and afternoon can change the day into one that isn't so fun as you might have been hoping for, it is good to take upon yourself the view that Mrs. W__did: Seeing the humor in an unpleasant situation is a attitude we can all learn from. With God, a good attitude is what counts.

(This has been: A Day in the Life of:__. Look in next time to read: Snippets of:_)

A Day in the Life of: Dad

Dad said that in order to have this blog, I would have to praise him to the skies. He was teasing of course. Nevertheless, this Sunday being Father's Day, I figured I would do it anyway. So, in this post, I'd like to talk a little bit about how much my Dad means to me, and what's he's taught me, and how much I appreciate him.

Dad means an awful lot to me. I mean, in the words of the hymn, "Without him, I would be nothing!"

Dad always loves to play games with us kids. When we were smaller, he'd tell us about the California peaches. Those peaches were sum'pin else! They were so huge that you couldn't see past them! Not only that, they were so sweet and juicy, that if you even looked at them, they'd squirt you. If one of them accidentally fell off it's leafy resting place, it would create another Death Valley or a Mariana Trench! We still enjoy joking about this. Dad is something I would call a "Good-memories maker."

Over the years, I think one of the best things Dad ever taught me was the little axiom, "Work before you play," and "Don't leave the work area until the work is done," and "Do it right the first time so you won't have to do it again." For me, these life principles have really been very freeing. You really can have a lot more time to do fun things, if you do the chores first; and correctly. If you work before playing, your work will be all done and you won't have to come back and do it later or worry about it. And, doing something over because you were lazy the first time doesn't save anytime. I love the way my Dad, (and mom), teach us principles from the Bible. In this case, Ephesians 5:15-16 applies: "See then that ye walk circumspectly, not as fools, but as wise. Redeeming the time, because the days are evil." A large part of "redeeming our time," is not wasting it. Doing something over again, or grumbling about it, is wasting precious time.

The other thing I really appreciate about Dad is his willingness to admit, and apologize for, his faults. (Oh, wait, Dad's perfect!) No, but really, it takes, I think, even more courage for an adult to say, "I'm sorry, I was wrong, will you forgive me," than for a child. Most parents probably make their children apologize at least once in their lives, but to do so on his/her own, takes a lot of courage. And I've heard that it takes more courage for a parent to apologize to his kids. I'm not sure quite how to explain it, but when my dad (and mom) have done this, it brings them up another large notch in my estimation and respect. Thanks Dad! I love you!

(This has been: A Day in the Life of: Dad. Tune in next time to read: Snippets of...")