Vox Lucens

Amen.

It seems like a very long time ago that I and a friend had rock-throwing challenges in the spot of this picture. The USS Utah sat in Pearl Harbor on the morning of December 7, 1941, and her rusting hulk sits there still, turned turtle, trapping the crew inside on that fateful day.

I’ll never forget the day that we were doing our homeschool in our home at Quarters 108, Ford Island. An elderly man knocked on the door rather sheepishly, and said that he just wanted to see the house. We were a little surprised–that was a strange request in the middle of the day, unannounced–but then he explained how he, as a child, had lived in that house on the day of the surprise attack. He showed us where a bullet from a Japanese Zero went through the wall just above the front door, going through the kitchen, laundry room, and former servant’s quarters.

Even as a kid, and despite bouncing rocks off of the hull of the Utah, I had a profound respect for the memorials that surrounded me. My love for history as I grew only deepened that respect. Where I had clunked rocks off of a rusty hull, men once pounded as the waters rose, desperately trying to save their lives. They gave their lives for this country.

I still can’t go onto a military base without remembering that sacrifice. There’s an aura, a rock solid determination in the sometimes decrepit old buildings. I still get chills when I recite the Pledge of Allegiance, or when I sing the national anthem. And I sure can’t watch an episode of Band of Brothers without reflecting. The sacrifice of these men, and so many others, is unimaginable.

And yet on Memorial Day it is not worth simply reflecting on sacrifice. Sacrifice is only as valuable as the cause it is done for. That is the true beauty of our American memorials. As a nation we have been far from perfect, but if you cut through those imperfections you have, at its core, a nation that is willing to sacrifice for the common good of mankind, and willing to stand for the core principles that give mankind that common good.

When I recite the Pledge of Allegiance, it is the lives behind each simple phrase that give it meaning. Far from meaningless platitudes, these are truths that give us hope, and give hope to all of humanity. For them all have given some, and some have given all.

And those truths that give us hope can continue to drive us–must continue to drive us–as we continue to demonstrate the inalienable truths of the laws of nature and nature’s God.

Happy barbecuing, everyone!

When I was little, I hated the game “tag.” OK, I take that back: I was never little, and that is precisely why I hated the game “tag.” It wasn’t that I was slower than everyone else; I lost because of the physical laws of momentum and inertia. Simply put, once I got going, I couldn’t maneuver, making speed worthless.

And if we’re playing word associations, the word “It” reminds me of a game I played one Christmas Eve with a friend whose family had a tradition of opening one present on that day. Besides thinking that this tradition was weird, I thought the game was horrible. It consisted of a motorized puddle of green goo, from which the hand of “It” would extend sporadically in an attempt to drag your playing piece off of the board. The game was apparently a complete flop, as a few poignant Google searches turn up absolutely nothing.

All of this is a long introduction to the following: I have been tagged, and my hatred for being “it” behooves me to untag myself ASAP. So here I rise, like the monster from the goo, to rid myself of this portion of my identity.

This particular meme being what it is, I therefore offer 7 random facts about myself and/or my habits, and tag 7 people to do the same.

Random Factoid the First: I have an aversion for greased pigs. I mentioned this the other day, but now I have evidence.

Random Factoid the Second: I have a birthmark over my eyelid–mostly on the upper eyelid, but incomplete unless I close my eye.

Random Factoid the Third: In all of my travels I have only found one place in the world that absolutely terrifies me, and that is the hardware store.

Random Factoid the Fourth: Today I found the actual grave for a real-life young lady I sang about in a high school recital. Talk about disturbing.

Random Factoid the Fifth: I have gone from being a happy non-bloggerist to a personal blogger, educational blogger, and work blogger, all in less than a year.

Random Factoid the Sixth: I have good reason to believe that I am the only OBCL student to have ever done flash cards on a bus in the middle of Sudan while listening to the ravings of a fundamentalist Imam over the PA system.

Random Factoid the Seventh: I REALLY need to do UCC now.

I hope that is less painful for you than it was for me. And the people I wish to tag, if for no other reason than I am interested to read their seven random facts:

Mr. JC O., Mr. Jonathan J., Miss Naomi J., Mr. Joseph M., Mr. Alex M., Miss Jenny H., and Mr. Peter S. I know Pete has already been tagged, but I’m trying to up the pressure.

Get crackin’, blogging seven. You have been marked by the blogosphere’s honor code.

• WordPress upgrades.
• Greased pigs (but I caught it!).
• UCC assignments.
• The antics of idiots in elected office. (This is the most stupid political move ever.)

BUT…my family is here! Blogging will take secondary priority this week…

Today, for The Weekly Reminder, I wrote what I think is the antithesis to my previous post on heartbreak.

The past couple of weeks have been full of news of suffering from the persecuted church. I have found it hard not to get discouraged by all of the attacks on God’s Kingdom, all over the world! And yet, the legacy of these believers is not one of discouragement, but of eternal hope. This, the legacy of Christians standing against evil, reminded me of one of my all-time favorite verses, Revelation 12:11.

Imagine, if you will, the greatest heavenly battle of all time. Imagine a dragon so huge that he cast down a third of the stars with his tail, warring with his demons against the angels of God. Imagine this dragon, so evil that he fights a war he cannot win simply to perpetrate death and destruction on the people he hates.

That is the picture of Revelation 12, a heavenly fight between demons and angels for power over the lives of men. The dragon, of course, is cast down. He is cast down to earth with his demons, where he tries to make up for his defeat by ceaselessly accusing the brethren. Like a cornered bear, he lashes out at God’s people.

But God’s people are not defeated. “And they overcame him by the blood of Lamb, and by the word of their testimony; and they loved not their lives unto the death.” (Rev. 12:11) Starting with the power of redemption through the blood of the Lamb, these believers stood firm against the dragon, being even willing to die for their love of the Savior.

Their overcoming is not the end. As verse 12 says, “For the devil is come down to you, having great wrath, because he knoweth that he hath but a short time.” His last struggle is to “make war” with those that “keep the commandments of God, and have the testimony of Jesus Christ.” (Rev. 12:17)

Persecution is, simply put, the last gasp of a defeated foe. Those that suffer and overcome are evidence of the victory of Jesus Christ over the devil. Even those that “loved not their lives unto the death” are evidence of a glorious and eternal life to come.

Let us continue to pray for these victorious overcomers.

During my last year of vocal competitions–before my life took an unexpected turn towards Virginia and HSLDA–my “final round” piece was an aria from a wonderful little Donizetti opera called L’elisir D’amore.

The aria was entitled Una Furtiva Lagrima, meaning “One Furtive Tear.” It is sung by the opera’s hero as he realizes–*gasp*–that the tears from the heroine mean that she is in love with him! (If you want to hear something of what I sounded like, you can see some guy imitate me here.)

All of this is, fortunately, not completely irrelevant. You see, my mom was always the one that took me to my vocal competitions, and this posed a bit of a difficulty when I sang this song. Right in the middle, when the aria modulates from minor to major, sung high and loud, comes the Italian contraction “M’ama.” Despite being a homophone, it has nothing to do with the immediate maternal ancestor in this linguistic rendering. Even after telling Mom this, she would still grin every time I sang it. I had to avoid looking her–especially during the final round–to keep from laughing.

There are songs, though, that do a much better job of giving praise where it is due. Here is one from Tenology.

Mama, I send you this letter,
Hoping my words can convey,
All that I’m trying to tell you,
All that my heart wants to say.

Mama, I want to tell you that I’ll always love you,
Mama, now I’m away I keep on thinking of you,
I think of the days when I was just a kid,
We were so happy together,
Who came for me with such tenderness?
No one, my mama, but you!

Mama, oh how I miss you now that we are apart,
Mama, so wonderful,
You’ll always find a place in my heart.

Even that, though, doesn’t say enough–but that is probably because “saying enough” isn’t even possible. I shall let it rest with simple truth, then:

Love you, Mom.