Enslavement or Freedom?
A few weeks ago Gingie and I were invited by a former cabinet level official to attend a formal ceremony in Washington, D.C. honoring thirteen surviving members of a 45-man Marine Corps combat platoon. The next day we attended a small private cookout at the Secretary's home. In attendance were the heroes and their wives, a couple of generals and a few nationally known political commentators.
Almost unnoticed on one corner of the deck, were several folks that I recognized as Vietnamese. I knew that they must enjoy some prominence to be invited to this exclusive affair. I asked my host who they were.
I'll just tell you about one.
At age 28 he was one of the youngest commanders in the Vietnamese Army. He had already received his country's Medal of Honor. After the fall of Saigon he was captured and sent North to be interred in a reeducation camp. These camps are more than just political indoctrination classes. They are designed to break the human spirit by utilizing the two greatest psychological tortures known to humanity - isolation and fear of the unknown.
Visualize his experience. Upon arrival, he was thrown in a box. A cage would have been more humane. The box, about the size of a large doghouse with a metal door, was actually a cistern for ground water.
He had no room to stand up or lie down. He was forced to sit in total darkness with his head bowed and his knees drawn up to his chest. He had no idea how long he would be confined in this manner. It could be hours. It could be days. Or it could be until his death! He didn't know if he'd ever get out.
His only contact, outside of his own mind, were the mosquitoes, and if you've never been in a tropical climate without insect repellant, you don't know what mosquitoes are; and the rats, who can weasel through even the tiniest of openings in their search for food. Both viewed him as a protein source.
He sat like this hour after hour after hour. When he had to relieve himself there was nowhere to go. He was condemned to wallow in his own filth.
The only way that he could tell the difference between day and night were periods of stifling, suffocating heat alternating with periods of damp, bone-chilling cold and always, always the incessant droning of mosquitoes buzzing in his ears.
The mosquito and rat bites quickly became infected. He developed dysentery and diarrhea. He competed for space with his own waste. He became emaciated. His teeth rotted out. The stench was overwhelming. He nearly went blind. Still he endured; hour after hour. Day after day. Week after week. Month after month. Year after year, for five and a half long years.
Can you imagine one percent of what he endured? Imagine sitting naked for just an hour in your own closet surrounded by mosquitoes and rats.
When he was released from the box, he was still kept in solitary confinement. His condition had deteriorated so badly that it took him years before he could stand or function on the most rudimentary level.
His wife, pregnant at the time of his incarceration, was finally allowed to visit him. She would travel over a thousand miles for one fifteen-minute visit a year. When he was released after twelve and a half years he met his thirteen-year-old son for the first time.
I asked him where he found the inner strength to survive. In broken English, he humbly replied, "I dreamed of the United States. I dreamed of freedom for my family. If I died, they would never escape. I had to live."
Ladies and gentlemen, you have a free ride. If you haven't achieved your dream, recognize that you are in a box of your own design.
As we journey through life, we are constantly challenged by events that can break our spirit. Maybe we feel unappreciated. Maybe our feelings are hurt by those to whom we are most loyal. But just as this officer did a decade ago, we must focus on our will to live and our escape to freedom.
It may take two or three years, or even ten years to escape. But your challenges pale in comparison to those obstacles faced by my compatriot.
Use a few products and share them with others. Keep an eye open for those who are also looking for freedom. If you can't find the courage to address these small tasks, you have chosen to spend the rest of your life in that box that you have created for yourself. Enslavement or freedom? The choice is yours!
Frank Keefer
Finding God in the Park
by Michael Josephson
Aaron was 80 and he was losing his memory. Against his will he moved in with his son, who cared about him but tended to treat him as a child. The old man missed his independence, including spending time in a park that was near his old apartment but more than a mile away from his son's home. One Saturday he decided to find his old park. Without his son's knowledge, he took some cheese and a couple of bananas and set off.
Soon, he bacame lost. When he saw a boy about eight, he asked the young fellow where the park was. The boy, who said his name was Timmy, said, "I'd take you there, but I'm looking for God. I've got to talk to him about why my parents are getting a divorce."
The old man said, "Maybe God is in the park. I'd like to talk to him too about why he's made me useless." And so they set off together, Aaron took Timmy to his favorite bench and shared his bananas and cheese. When Timmy began to cry about the divorce. Aaron lovingly held his face in both hands and looked him right in the eyes. "Timmy, I don't know why bad things happen, but I know it's not your fault and that you are going to be OK."
"Are you sure?" the boy asked.
"Yes, I'm sure. Whatever comes, you can deal with it."
On the walk back, Timmy said, "I don't know why you think you are useless. I think you are wonderful." They parted with a warm hug.
Timmy's mom saw the man and boy part, and she asked her son, "Who was that old man?"
"He's God," Timmy said.
"Did he say that?" she said skeptically.
"No, but I know it was God because when he hugged me, he made everything OK."
Many blocks away Aaron's son caught up with his father and demanded, "Dad, where have you been? I've been looking all over for you!"
"I was talking with God," Aaron said.
"What makes you think you talked to God?" his son replied scornfully.
"Because when he touched me I realized that I may not be everything I used to be, but I'm not useless."
