I went to the circus once when I was ten years old. I never went back. I enjoyed the human performers but I hated everything else. An elephant was strapped down to give rides. This was her whole existence. She would allow children to her back and walk in a slow circle. The only other part of her life involved living in a train car until she would again be tied to another pole in another city.
It makes me angry and sad at the same time. It frustrates me beyond belief because I could never do anything for that elephant. She deserved to be running around in gigantic grass fields. She deserved to know life beyond a train car window.
I remember seeing a large cat in a cage and I felt so sorry for it. What could I do for him? I couldn't buy him or set him free. And what's more, I could never do anything for any of the animals forced to live in the circus. I'd always longed for a job with meaning, but what am I supposed to do, quit and save the entire world? I would barely make a noticeable dent.
We watched "The Rise of the Planet of the Apes" a couple days ago on DVD. Awesome prequel and done quite well. (If only the sequels were half as good) A virus wipes out most of humanity while a race of apes develops the world. I told Shawn it would serve us right if something like that happened. For what we've done to the animals and their planet, for testing on them, and forcing them to be kiddie play things.
Why did God give us charge over the animals? Surely He would have known how the majority of us would have treated the critters? It ought to be the other way around. Animals do not sexually abuse their young. They do not torture. They do not pollute and invent dangerous drugs.
But what can I do? I feel like I cannot do anything except be frustrated over it, saddened, and deeply angered.
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
Sunday, December 25, 2011
What A Terrible World
It's Christmas morning. I flipped on the TV for background noise while I played with the puppy. A new commercial for The Human Society came on. A boxer with a disfigured face was shown. His face was mutilated from years of dog fights. A cow was seen being pushed over with a fork lift. A horse that was forced to starve was shown. I have seen skinny horses before, but never one so pitifully thin.
The first images made me cringe but when the video of the cow being pushed with a fork lift was shown, I began to bawl. My tears fell on the puppy in my lap and she stood up on my leg and began to furiously lick my jaw. I just sat there and cried.
I hate this world, I thought. Why are we allowed to go on and live? If you look around, the cruel out number the humane. The greedy seem to out number the generous. If you don't believe me, visit a mall or a mega retailer two days before Christmas. We shoot each other over sneakers and pepper spray each other over a sale. A sale! You have a weapon so use it to take what you want instead of inflicting pain unnecessarily. Don't shoot someone so you can buy sneakers. Use the gun as a threat and just take the darn sneakers!
In the newspaper I read of a four year old that was beaten to death. His body had various stages of healing bruises. I read about a baby girl--a baby!--that was sexually assaulted and left with a broken pelvis.
Why are we allowed to live? Such a beautiful world, destroyed by humanity. Crushed by the ugly human spirit. Why doesn't God destroy it now? Honestly, I don't want to be here if things get much worse. I get so angry when I see & read about these things. I cry because there's nothing--NOTHING--I can do to change things. People are still cruel. Disgusting men still assault tiny babies and beat children, allow animals to starve.
My hands shake with anger and also with pure frustration because I sit here and can do nothing about it.
Why does God wait so long for things to get so bad? How much worse is He going to allow us to act before bringing down His fist?
The first images made me cringe but when the video of the cow being pushed with a fork lift was shown, I began to bawl. My tears fell on the puppy in my lap and she stood up on my leg and began to furiously lick my jaw. I just sat there and cried.
I hate this world, I thought. Why are we allowed to go on and live? If you look around, the cruel out number the humane. The greedy seem to out number the generous. If you don't believe me, visit a mall or a mega retailer two days before Christmas. We shoot each other over sneakers and pepper spray each other over a sale. A sale! You have a weapon so use it to take what you want instead of inflicting pain unnecessarily. Don't shoot someone so you can buy sneakers. Use the gun as a threat and just take the darn sneakers!
In the newspaper I read of a four year old that was beaten to death. His body had various stages of healing bruises. I read about a baby girl--a baby!--that was sexually assaulted and left with a broken pelvis.
Why are we allowed to live? Such a beautiful world, destroyed by humanity. Crushed by the ugly human spirit. Why doesn't God destroy it now? Honestly, I don't want to be here if things get much worse. I get so angry when I see & read about these things. I cry because there's nothing--NOTHING--I can do to change things. People are still cruel. Disgusting men still assault tiny babies and beat children, allow animals to starve.
My hands shake with anger and also with pure frustration because I sit here and can do nothing about it.
Why does God wait so long for things to get so bad? How much worse is He going to allow us to act before bringing down His fist?
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
What Christmas Has Become
I don't have time to be sitting here, typing. I wanted to write it while the details were fresh in my mind.
I've caught myself thinking, in secret, "I hate Christmas." This statement does not actually, literally mean that I hate Christmas. I hate what it is today. I went to the grocery store on Monday and the parking lot was packed. It was raining and I had to hike a quarter mile from my parking space to the store. A typical seven minuet drive can take up to twenty minuets due to the shoppers on the road, all on the hunt for that one special, perfect gift.
Bah humbug. Yeah, you heard me. When I was a child, it was much more simple. All my family, extended cousins included, would gather at my grandmother's house for warmth, fellowship, shredded wrapping paper and mounds of food. All it is anymore is time spent in the car, in line, waiting, searching, sorting, wrapping....
At Wal-Mart today I had actual groceries to get as well as a handful of gifts; a few pounds of candy for my Aunt Louise who is stuck in a nursing home, a couple gift cards. I picked a non-threatening line and awaited to check out my items. I waited. And waited. And waited some more. I anxiously tore at the package of my nicotine gum and feigned patience.
The lady in front of me scrutinized every price of every item. She claimed those specific tomatoes were listed as $1.84 and not $1.87 as they had rung up.
LADY, HERE'S THREE CENTS; HERE'S FIVE DOLLARS NOW LET'S GO!!!!!!!
I was not aware until it was finally my turn what was the main cause for the slow progression of the check out line. The cashier had one normal arm and one tiny, short arm. Do not misunderstand me. I do not fault this woman for her abnormality. I fault stupid Wal-Mart for placing this poor woman as a cashier approximately 11 days from Christmas. In hindsight, there is an older fellow who also has a similar abnormality and he pushes a broom up and down the ailes. It works great for him and Wal-Mart.
For this reason, I stood in line for twenty minuets (or six hours). Next, I hit the mall to pick up an order I had placed for Mom to help her out (for Shawn's God-awful jeans size--the freak) and to pick up more gift cards for my four nieces.
Dear God, the mall. There's a reason I never go in there. By the time I was done, it was raining good and hard and I had developed pit stains from pushing through the mobs. On the way home, the thoughts of what Christmas used to be and what it has become tumbled in my mind.
An old mix CD played in the stereo and out of the blue, unexpected, Sarah McLaughlin began to sing, "This, this is Christ the King...."
As I drove what we affectionately call The Back Loop, I began to sob. This was not just any cry. This was the kind of cry that produces seriously high-pitched inhales, gasping for breath, and weeping. Once home, it was over. The front of my shirt was wet. The feeling of overwhelm had vanished as the members of Linkin Park played "New Divide" over the speakers.
Make lunches, feed the dogs, the cat, separate the receipts and mark the budget, put away laundry, mark the purchase orders for the business, meet Gloria and her husband for a business dinner at 7 o'clock..... I rallied my brain to reset because I had one million things to get done and only a few short hours to do them in.
Because this is what Christmas has become....
I've caught myself thinking, in secret, "I hate Christmas." This statement does not actually, literally mean that I hate Christmas. I hate what it is today. I went to the grocery store on Monday and the parking lot was packed. It was raining and I had to hike a quarter mile from my parking space to the store. A typical seven minuet drive can take up to twenty minuets due to the shoppers on the road, all on the hunt for that one special, perfect gift.
Bah humbug. Yeah, you heard me. When I was a child, it was much more simple. All my family, extended cousins included, would gather at my grandmother's house for warmth, fellowship, shredded wrapping paper and mounds of food. All it is anymore is time spent in the car, in line, waiting, searching, sorting, wrapping....
At Wal-Mart today I had actual groceries to get as well as a handful of gifts; a few pounds of candy for my Aunt Louise who is stuck in a nursing home, a couple gift cards. I picked a non-threatening line and awaited to check out my items. I waited. And waited. And waited some more. I anxiously tore at the package of my nicotine gum and feigned patience.
The lady in front of me scrutinized every price of every item. She claimed those specific tomatoes were listed as $1.84 and not $1.87 as they had rung up.
LADY, HERE'S THREE CENTS; HERE'S FIVE DOLLARS NOW LET'S GO!!!!!!!
I was not aware until it was finally my turn what was the main cause for the slow progression of the check out line. The cashier had one normal arm and one tiny, short arm. Do not misunderstand me. I do not fault this woman for her abnormality. I fault stupid Wal-Mart for placing this poor woman as a cashier approximately 11 days from Christmas. In hindsight, there is an older fellow who also has a similar abnormality and he pushes a broom up and down the ailes. It works great for him and Wal-Mart.
For this reason, I stood in line for twenty minuets (or six hours). Next, I hit the mall to pick up an order I had placed for Mom to help her out (for Shawn's God-awful jeans size--the freak) and to pick up more gift cards for my four nieces.
Dear God, the mall. There's a reason I never go in there. By the time I was done, it was raining good and hard and I had developed pit stains from pushing through the mobs. On the way home, the thoughts of what Christmas used to be and what it has become tumbled in my mind.
An old mix CD played in the stereo and out of the blue, unexpected, Sarah McLaughlin began to sing, "This, this is Christ the King...."
As I drove what we affectionately call The Back Loop, I began to sob. This was not just any cry. This was the kind of cry that produces seriously high-pitched inhales, gasping for breath, and weeping. Once home, it was over. The front of my shirt was wet. The feeling of overwhelm had vanished as the members of Linkin Park played "New Divide" over the speakers.
Make lunches, feed the dogs, the cat, separate the receipts and mark the budget, put away laundry, mark the purchase orders for the business, meet Gloria and her husband for a business dinner at 7 o'clock..... I rallied my brain to reset because I had one million things to get done and only a few short hours to do them in.
Because this is what Christmas has become....
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