Category Archives: Faith

“Freedom from God is slavery to circumstance”

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Yesterday, Granny took the boys to Mount Mitchell, elevation 6,684 feet. My lovers of geography were thrilled to visit the highest peak east of the Mississippi.

They did some light hiking, ate a picnic lunch, and cheerfully weathered the 63-degree temps in summer clothing. What a nice and safe adventure in the great outdoors.

Warming up & drying off after a fun-filled afternoon swimming @ Hanging Rock Lake. Little did we know what craziness what in store for us on day two of our camping trip.

Now let’s compare this with our camping trip to Hanging Rock from July 11-13. That Saturday was sunny and warm, so setting up camp was easy enough. Once Stephen’s friend from work, Dan, and his 12-year-old son, Brendan, arrived, we were off to do some lake swimming.

That night featured all the things that make camping so rewarding: relaxing around the campsite in an organic state, building a kick-butt fire, feasting on smokey campfire-cooked meat, munching guilt-free on junk food, making s’mores, burning sticks, drinking icy cold brews, and playing with glow sticks and glow necklaces after dark.

Overall, day one was a smashing success, and it felt as though Hanging Rock had welcomed us with open arms. Now, the next day was another story.

Zeke celebrates finding a good s’more-roasting stick, while Houston tosses the football — a harbinger of things to come the following day.

It began innocently enough. We’re pretty slow-moving campers in the morning. After Stephen boiled water for coffee, and Dan cooked bacon and eggs for breakfast, we lounged lazily around the fire, not quite ready to start off on an adventure.

Instead, the adventure came to us in the form of a football landing smack dab in the pan with still searing-hot bacon grease. It flew up onto Dan’s hands, Brendan’s arms and forehead, and Zeke’s legs. Screaming and crying filled the campground, and freaking out ensued.

Houston was the one who had been tossing the football up into the air. I actually thought to tell him to move away from where we were hanging out as to avoid hitting the lantern or some other breakable piece of camping gear. The grease hadn’t even crossed my mind as a possible disastrous target.

The twins are in awe of Gabriel’s fiery stick. Burning stuff is one of the best parts of camping, well, unless it entails burning-hot bacon grease.

But against my better judgement and my gut intuition, I said nothing. I felt like during the week leading up to camping, I had been riding Houston a little hard. So, I thought, “Lighten up, Rebecca. Let the boy have a good time, and stop ruining his fun.”

Interestingly, both dads said after the fact that they hadn’t even noticed Houston throwing the ball. Hence, it was me who dropped the ball, so to speak. Ultimately, I was responsible, and I felt horrible.

Of course, poor Houston felt even worse. He was saying how he was the worst person in the world, but we couldn’t really tend to his shattered self-esteem, since the medical needs of our burn victims were the most pressing issue.

Dan assists in getting the boys to pose for this forced photo @ Window Falls. A little morning trauma, a stressful hike, & my nervous & shaky hands weren’t about to stop me from getting my obligatory nature shot. Now smile, daggone it!

After being iced and slathered with ointment from the first-aid kit, Zeke eventually calmed down. We assessed the burns, which were pretty bad, but not blistering, so we opted forego a trip to the hospital.

After that, we were finally able to talk to Houston. We explained that he wasn’t in trouble. It was abundantly clear that this was just an accident, and we could see that he felt great remorse. We lovingly assured him that no one was mad and that we all forgave him. Poor kid.

Sure, we told him he should learn from such mistakes and make wiser decisions in the future, but the mishap was ultimately Mommy’s fault, since she was the only adult who happened to think about the consequences beforehand. Sigh … not the proudest parenting moment of my life.

Zeke shimmies down a rock on his bottom (as has been advised), while Gabriel does a jig near the steep ledge … Mommy’s blood pressure goes up.

I felt like my entire foundation had been rocked. I was guilt-ridden, shaken to the core, and shaking life a leaf.

Instead of practicing grace with myself, as I’m called to do in Ephesians 4:32, I felt feeble and defeated. Instead of remembering that God’s strength is made perfect in my weakness, like Paul says in 2 Corinthians 12:9-10, I was discouraged and wrecked by my failure.

Once we determined that Zeke could indeed get a sock on over the bandaged burns, we forged on with our hiking plans for the day. We made it to Window Falls and Hidden Falls, where the boys quickly got ahead of us with Brendan. This, I didn’t handle well.

“Is my wife having a nervous breakdown?” ponders Stephen. “Will we survive this hike?” I wonder, as I let the circumstances control me & affect our group. Sorry for not embracing the Fruits of the Holy Spirit, y’all! (By the way, nice photography work, Houston.)

Once we caught up to them, I witnessed my young, inexperienced hikers jumping from slippery rock to slippery rock, while exercising absolutely no caution. They haphazardly climbed up and descended down slime-covered terrains, heeding no skills we’d previously taught. I was just a mass of twitching nerves.

At our urging, the 3 Amigos were a bit more vigilant in the safety standards at our final destination, Lower Cascade Falls. This one has a pool deep enough for swimming, so we stayed there for a while to let the kids cool off and play, and allow us some time to chill and decompress.

Back at the site, Gabriel was sitting on his knees and leaning forward (as is his wont) while eating chips at a picnic table. Behind him was a cooler with a detached lid. His foot pushed against it, the lid slid off, and Gabe’s face smashed into the edge of the table.

Houston, who is such a sweet, forgiving & grace-filled boy, manages to have fun hiking behind Hidden Falls, despite Mommy’s stressed-out demeanor. So glad you didn’t let the accident or me ruin your adventure!

Blood gushed. Shrieks filled the campground for a second time. And ice was once again utilized to doctor an injury.

Turns out that Gabe took a chunk out of the gum above a top, front permanent tooth. Yikes. But because we were able to stop the bleeding promptly and he was able to eat without pain, we opted against the ER. Plus, I figured I’d just take him to the dentist once we returned to civilization.

After that, we had an uneventful dinner (thank God!), feasting upon MREs and sausages, and just trying to recover from the stresses of the day. Once Dan and Brendan hit the road, the boys easily passed out in the tent.

Zeke frolics in the pool of Lower Cascade Falls, happy that the cool waters provide relief to his injured legs. Thank the Lord his burns have healed well & hopefully only one small scar will remain.

That night, however, a thunderstorm raged and caused our tent to leak a bit. (Well, our laziness in not tying down the rain cover was the real culprit.) The boys were a bit scared, but we convinced them we were safe and, no, we wouldn’t float away, never to be seen or heard from again.

Gabriel had said he felt badly, but I chocked that up to fear and fatigue, so I didn’t think much about it. That is, until he puked all over his blankets, sleeping bag, and therma-rest around 2 a.m.

For once that day, I took God’s advice, and heeded the words of Isaiah 26:3 by finding peace in Jesus in the midst of this literal and figurative storm. I calmly reassured the boys that we would be okay, and that we could and would press on, despite our circumstances.

Zeke tries to slide down slippery rocks @ the bottom of Lower Cascade. Fortunately, it was a very bumpy & unsuccessful ride, so no more attempts were made. Don’t worry, thrill-seekers … there were more injuries & mishaps in store for us later on back @ the campground.

I used one of the remaining two therma-rests and slept down on the ground with Gabe to help him through the night, and Houston and Zeke snuggled with Daddy on the blow-up mattress. Sure, the smell of puke hung in the air, but we did indeed make it through the night no worse for the wear.

The day after we got home, though, I told Stephen I felt like I was having a stroke. I was speaking like I had dyslexia, jumbling up my words into a mixed-up order. Somehow, Houston managed to translate for me, articulating my unintelligible sentences into thoughts that made sense.

Stephen explained that people having strokes don’t even say real words and convinced me that I was fine. Still, I felt like someone was sitting on my chest and that I had no control over myself, mind and body. It was truly frightening.

Our trip w/ a few CC families to All-A-Flutter Butterfly Farm was both stress-free & injury-free … no standing on dangerous ledges for these merry pics!

Since then, I’ve determined that my physical body was merely suffering the symptoms of a spiritual sickness. I had gotten to a place both leading up to and during the camping trip where I wanted to have control, instead of letting the Holy Spirt control me and allowing His fruits to take hold of my life, as is spelled out in Galatians 5:22-25.

I was ignoring the words in John 15:5 that says by abiding in Christ, you will bear much fruit. And I wasn’t listening to Paul’s wisdom in Philippians 4:10-13. As Pastor Andrew explains these verses, “Freedom from God is slavery to circumstance.”

I’ve gained a deeper faith since all this, and feel like a stronger mom and wife, and a more mature Christian. I’m not saying I won’t screw up again and feel that human impulse of letting circumstances control me, but I will recognize the darkness sooner and be able to use the light of Christ to conquer it, hopefully, with much less drama.

Zeke dons Monarch antennae as tissue paper is wrapped around the kids to symbolize the chrysalis, from which these “butterflies” will emerge.

Simply put, I am learning ever so slowly to be content like Paul. It’s difficult and it’s radical, but it’s indeed doable. And honestly, it is the only way to survive and thrive in our brutal world and in America’s culture of death.

As my pastor further explains it, “I am tied to the source of life. It is strength to stand against the circumstances of the world through weakness of total dependence on God.”

In other words, when God controls us, our circumstances don’t, and our dependence on other worldly things is broken as a result. That is power. That is strength. That is blessing. That is freedom.

Although Monarchs are supposed to be attracted to vibrant colors, they were particularly drawn to Zeke, even in a black shirt. I think his butterfly popularity came as quite a surprise!

Other stuff:

  • Gabe’s gum is healing well and his first ($91!!!) x-ray showed that there was no damage to his tooth’s root or socket. He has to get another trauma check in a couple weeks, so you better break open the piggy bank, buddy.
  • We went to the sprayground with some Mercy Hill mamas, which included Kim, who just so happens to be the midwife who delivered Houston. He’s friends with her son, Casey. Small world, eh?!
  • Houston’s swimming like a champ and taking on diving boards, like he did at John Hunter and Gray’s house recently. He was even able to swim out to the platform at Hanging Rock and jump bravely from the board into the lake’s 14-feet water!

Even Houston (not a huge fan of critters these days) likes feeding the the Monarchs from his Gatorade-drenched pad.

  • Gabriel can now jump into the six-feet end of the pool and swim his way back to the edge without my assistance — a new feat realized while at Will’s pool the other day!
  • And Zeke is technically swimming, but just needs to build his confidence and not rely on floaties or the noodle. I’m so proud of all my little swimmers!
  • Stephen and I had an eventful date night. We saw Robert Randolph & the Family; then feasted on phở, bánh mì, and delectable cocktails made by a very serious bartender; indulged in a pricey cigar at an all-black bar, where we stuck out like soar thumbs, but didn’t care. Good times for sure!

Many Monarchs flutter about, while Gabriel & crew enjoy the relaxing atmosphere of the butterfly house.

  • Gramsey and Papa came to visit and took us out to a restaurant of Houston’s choosing. He picked Mario’s Pizza, which impressed the skeptics. And then the boys enjoyed working on a 500-piece puzzle, playing poker, and showing off their reading skills to Grams and Pops.
  • We went to a baseball game with Tricia, Jeremy, Bret, and Bella. We met this cool family through the J-Crew and hope that our friendships with them blossom over the coming months.
  • In fact, we are planning a camping trip with them this fall. Crazy, you say? Well, that’s the just the way we roll.

“Joy is about what you believe, not what you feel”

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The world at large has seemingly gone nuts. One prime example is that my fellow Americans have blamed the Confederacy for the Charleston shooting, and called for the banning of the Battle Flag, as well as other heritage and historic symbols. Since when did censorship become cool?!

With plenty of zinc oxide & silliness in tow, Houston & Jax enjoy our six-plus-hour beach day @ the Isle of Palms.

Forget real history, context, consistency, and common sense; the mob has their pitchforks out and are ready to demolish all remnants of Southernness. And if they have to destroy some Southerners along the way, well, that’s just an additional perk for the indoctrinators and re-educators of progressivism, and those that blindly follow the herd.

Next, the U.S. Supreme Court has exhibited in grand scale its fetish with tyranny by overturning state laws for traditional marriage. I personally think that consenting adults should not have to get permission from any government to join in a voluntary contract, and that adults should already be free to engage in the relationships of their choosing.

So, my Christian belief that marriage is something specific — a union between one man and one woman that is a reflection of our relationship with Christ — is really a moot point. As long as I’m not trying to coerce people though the force of government to abide by my worldview, what does it matter?

Donning Mr. Logan’s hat (due to a sunburn from the day before), Gabriel looks right @ home as a Kiawah beach bum.

And to round out this triad of oligarchical oppression, Congress just allowed the U.S. to become a member of the Trans-Pacific Partnership, which is, in short, a global governmental organization consisting of more than 600 members. Of those, 12 are countries and the rest are corporations. Nice.

It’s a trade deal and a fast-track treaty that will further subvert the rights of the people, on everything from medicine to the Internet to representation, and increases the power of cronyism worldwide. Yeah, it’s a brave, new world.

From a bunch of mob-mentality authoritarians running around, trying to control my every move and suppress my every thought; to the court and their one-size-fits-all mandates, to Congress’s incessant usurping of divided sovereignty and minority rights (with the ultimate minority being the individual), it’s easy to see why a lover of liberty can be down these days.

I affectionately refer to this as “Kiawah Boogie, Part 1.”

Libertarian author Larken Rose sums up my frustration aptly:

“Ya know, when people have been the targets of violence for so long, only to then turn around and initiate violence against others, it’s a prime example of the fact that most people do NOT actually advocate freedom, other than for themselves. Most people just want the club of ‘government’ on their side. If you’re not in favor of allowing EVERYONE his/her self-ownership, even if they use their freedom in ways you don’t like, then YOU are the driving force behind division and tyranny. For example, the people celebrating that VIOLENCE was used against people for not making a cake are far MORE of a threat to society than any narrow-minded but NON-violent bigot, racist, etc. To pretend you’re tolerant and that you love diversity, while demanding ENFORCED conformity, is pretty damn hypocritical.”

I understand that ours is a fallen world and that the Evil One and his manipulative and lying ways can be persuasive for the flesh of humanity. But I also know that Christ reigns supreme and that God’s will is done on earth as it is in heaven.

Part 2: As the sun sets on South Carolina, the Kiawah Boogie continues unabated.

So, I have to let the light of the Holy Spirit shine through me, even in these dark times. Thus, I’m trying my best to love on everyone, even the agents of oppression. Now that doesn’t mean that I won’t share my opinions in a civil way, try to gently persuade people, or even defend myself and my family against force, if the need should arise.

But the world is filled with hard hearts and people who are just hostile to both worldly and eternal freedom, and another heart of stone isn’t go to do anything to advance God’s kingdom here on earth. I won’t let the haters steal my affection for God, distance me from His peace, or put up barriers between me and the things I hold dear.

As one of my pastors said in a recent sermon:

“Joy is about what you believe, not what you feel … (and is) based on an unchanging reality, not our changing circumstances.”

It ain’t always easy being a Christian, but then again, no one ever said it would be. But it through Jesus that all things are possible. And thank you, God, for that.

Part 3: What happens in Charleston, stays in Charleston.

Sure, life has its anxieties and pressures, but there is so much living to do and so many blessings to cherish … like friends. So, the boys and I went to Charleston from June 17-21. We were actually there when that lunatic shot up a historic black church, killing nine innocent people.

An interesting thing was that while the mainstream media pumped their divisive narrative into homes across the nation, Charlestonians actually exhibited a keep-on-keepin’-on attitude. Yes, they grieved, but they also persevered ’cause that’s what Southerners do. In the face adversity, that rebel spirit was evident through their strength and kindness.

We took two trips to the beach during our visit. First was to Isle of Palms and the other was to Kiawah. Both are family-friendly with nice, big, clean expanses on which to spread out, thrilling waves for diving and riding without the undertow, and lots of pond-like areas for sand-castle building.

Zeke & Jax check out the U.S.S. Yorktown from the welcoming shade of our fun & breezy water taxi.

IOP is a more populated destination, whereas Kiawah is located in a nature sanctuary, giving you the feel of being on your own private ocean-front playground. Other than the overbearing seagulls at Kiawah, that was definitely our favorite of the two beaches.

We had a couple truly excellent meals. Christie, the kids, and I ate at Chez Fish on John’s Island. The food was scrumptious, but the service sure wasn’t what you’d expect from Southern hospitality and a restaurant with a nearly five-star Yelp rating. Oh well.

Stephen had arrived on Friday night, so on Saturday, both families trekked from Mount Pleasant to Charleston and back via water-taxi. Once downtown, we feasted on steamed oysters and other delicious sea creatures at Pearlz. Great service, awesome food, and microbrews crafted especially for the establishment. What’s not to like?

Proud to defend the Holy City against Yankee invaders, Gabriel keeps watch from atop a cannon in Battery Park.

In addition to yummy eats and super-fun boat rides, we soaked in the historic and steamy city on foot, walking around downtown, through the Battery, and then to Waterfront Park, where we let the kids cool off in the public fountains on this 100-plus-degree afternoon.

The irony of Fort Sumter being our backdrop for the day was not lost on me. It’s as if the landmark was a harbinger of the coming cultural battles proceeding the shooting, the SCOTUS decision, and the TPP passage.

Just as this fort endured the first shots of the War Between the States, it seems prescient in knowing the struggles for freedom and against central governance both then and now. I suppose, some things never change.

Zeke reads the decaying tombstones behind First Baptist Church, which (as the oldest Baptist church in the South) is considered the “Mother Church of Southern Baptists.”

Since Charleston, we have had some shenanigans around here, most notably celebrating Houston’s 8th birthday! The actual occasion was on June 26. Granny was in town for the weekend, so we went to see the movie “Inside Out,” and then came home and feasted on the birthday boy’s dessert pick: cheesecake!

Houston’s actual party was the following Tuesday night. He got to have two friends (Bret and a pal from Y baseball, Mitchell) over for afternoon play and more cheesecake, laser tag and bowling at Spare Time, and then back to the casa for a sleepover. Boyhood craziness abounded!

Some other stuff:

  • The 3 Amigos went to Mercy Hill Kids Week in late June for five days of learning about Jesus and hanging with friends: two of their favorite things!
  • The boys went to their CC/church buddy Josh’s birthday party. It was Mario Brothers-themed and featured a bounce house and piñata. Good times.
  • Last week, their CC pal, Tyrnan, came over for the afternoon. His grandmother had passed away, so the dudes took his mind off of that with Legos galore and by playing outside during a warm downpour.
  • Yesterday, the kids attended the Chevy Youth Baseball Clinic, where they got to learn some skills from the Greensboro Grasshoppers at the city’s fancy baseball park.

No better way to round out a steamy day of Charleston sightseeing than playing in the pineapple fountain @ Waterfront Park.

And last week, Houston underwent his first state-mandated educational testing. I chose the Woodcock-Johnston Cognitive Assessment, which was administered by a private contractor that a few other CC parents and I hired to test our kiddos in a relaxed atmosphere (my friend Rissa’s house).

Houston scored at the appropriate grade level for “passage comprehension,” which is not a surprise to me, since this language-arts discipline is usually challenging for him. But for the other 10 categories, Houston scored well into third-grade-level knowledge. Not too shabby for a rising third-grader. So proud of you Houston Lee!

I pledge allegiance to only one authority

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The 3 Amigos are at summer camp right now; well, I guess it’s really “spring camp,” but we homeschoolers have to call it something, I suppose.

But before they left, they wrapped another successful year of Awana, where for 10 months they learned about Jesus and memorized tons of Scripture. Seriously, they can say way more Bible verses than can many longtime Christians. Impressive and fun!

At the CC end-of-the-year celebration, the dudes each got special certificates (well, not that special, since all the CC kiddos received them, but the boys think they’re swell). Zeke’s character award was for being “Enthusiastic,” Gabriel’s was “Energetic,” and Houston’s was “Focused, disciplined, and analytical.”

“Golden Garden Club” overwhelmingly wins by a show of hands as the official name of our summer hangout group.

Yep, those descriptions are quite apt. And even though I adore the twins’ vitality and remain cognizant of their individuality, unique learning styles, and personalities, I still look forward to Gabriel and Zeke’s growing maturity.

In fact, they’ve shown increased self-control even since CC ended, as we’ve still been doing education daily and plan on continuing throughout the summer. Now, I did start using essential oils per the suggestion of my pal, Holly, who says vetiver and ylang ylang are supposed to calm and relax.

However, I think the oils aren’t really all they’re cracked up to be, so I’m giving all the credit to Gabe and Zeke! And at least we all smell good.

I was asked to tutor CC next year. I thought about doing it in order to get some money back on tuition, but decided to decline the offer. I figured that saving a few bucks would not be worth the time and effort it would take to prep for teaching a three-hour class every Tuesday for 24 weeks.

Zeke & his new pal, Trenton, work as a team to get an entire row of seeds into the earth.

I also realized that the boys and I have finally gotten into an education groove. Hey, it only took three years, y’all!

Couple that with all the other places we have to be and things we have to do (like adding in piano lessons for the twins this summer!), and I didn’t want to upset our already delicate balance. After all, a frazzled, stressed-out mama ain’t good for nothin’!

The dudes have two baseball games remaining and seem to dramatically improve with each game. Stephen thinks Houston will be ready for more competitive ball next year, but the twins may need one more round at the Y just to hone skills, better understand rules, etc.

Another big seasonal happening is the Golden Garden Club. This is a bi-monthly summer playgroup of nine CC families and is hosted by Martha (who was Zeke’s tutor his first year of CC) and her five daughters.

The gatherings include horticulture stories, hands-on activities, eating, swimming, trampoline-jumping, and running around being free! It’s such a nice way to learn more about growing veggies and have a lot of fun in the process.

Houston uses a 12-inch stick to measure the spacing & then poke a hole in the dirt, so other kids can simply drop corn seeds into the garden.

However, the kick-off of club begins with a different family leading the Pledge of Allegiance each time. Is there no escape from the propagandistic racket pushed by government schools, even among my fellow home educators? Sigh.

“I believe a man is happier, and happy in a richer way, if he has ‘the freeborn mind.’ … For independence allows an education not controlled by Government; and in adult life it is the man who needs and asks nothing of Government who can criticize its acts and snap his fingers at its ideology. Read Montaigne; that’s the voice of a man with his legs under his own table, eating the mutton and turnips raised on his own land. Who will talk like that when the State is everyone’s schoolmaster and employer?” ― C.S. Lewis

As some of you may know, our family doesn’t recite the pledge. We have varied reasons for doing so, but here’s an overview, starting with the pledge’s sordid inception.

  • It was written by Francis Bellamy, a Christian Socialist of the late 19th-century progressive era and member of the Boston-born elitist socialist movement known as Nationalism.
  • Bellamy’s words echo the sentiments of his famous cousin, Edward Bellamy, who was an author of socialist-utopian novels, like “Looking Backward,” which greatly influenced none other than progressive public-school advocate, John Dewey.
  • In 1892, the pledge was published in a leading magazine of the day called “The Youth’s Companion” (YC) to ostensibly commemorate Columbus Day in public schools. This occasion would include the pledge recitation, as well as a new flag-raising ceremony.
  • Notably, most schools at that time didn’t have flags in the classroom nor in front of the buildings. So in 1888, YC began a campaign to sell flags to schools.

The kids do taste tests on a variety of seeds before planting. Among a sea of picky eaters, my little foodies & their adventurous palates thoroughly enjoy this portion of the lesson!

  • Having been fired from his minister job for incessantly preaching that Jesus was a socialist, Bellamy was hired by YC to help with the public-relations effort to push flags into schools.
  • This campaign included the National Education Association as a sponsor, and Congress and President Benjamin Harrison making a national proclamation about the Columbus Day pledge-and-flag event.
  • YC ended up selling more than 26,000 flags to schools for the celebration. Just goes to show that ensuring indoctrination while making some cash is always the right recipe for socialist success.
  • The original pledge was recited while raising a stiff right hand upward. Due to its similarities to the Nazi salute, this practice was discontinued during WWII and replaced with putting the right hand over one’s heart.
  • “Under God” was added to the pledge by Congress and President Eisenhower in 1954 at the urging of the Knights of Columbus.
  • And so the battle over these words has become an all-encompassing America straw man: while atheist-socialists fight to have the pledge taken out of schools, limited-government folks think they’re being both patriotic and faithful in promoting the pledge’s prominence.
  • There’s even more skeletons in the pledge’s closet, but you get the point.

Besides the unsavory history, a pledge is a serious and solemn promise and should not be taken lightly. And just because it’s, at worst, a forced loyalty oath of subordination, and at best, a socially sanctioned habit that few question doesn’t mean that I, as a student of history and a lover of freedom, should conform.

Gabriel takes his seed-planting job very seriously. A perk? Getting your hands & feet muddy!

Despite the shock of this stance, we simply want to avoid the idolatrous nature of vowing allegiance to a piece of cloth, our country’s alleged symbol of freedom. Instead, we will worship, praise, and pledge our devotion to the real thing, Jesus Christ.

God is our authority. And because He is loving, gracious, merciful, and forgiving, and we willingly submit to Him. (For people of faith, please check out this thought-provoking article.)

Moreover, the pledge is at odds with our libertarian principles. Thematically, it promotes a nationalistic dogma in order to cut at the heart of individualism and self-determination, and encourages a loyalty to state in order to seize power from we the people.

I also have a real problem with the language, specifically the word “indivisible.” If you can’t leave something you think is unjust, well, that’s antithesis of liberty.

American patriots during the Revolution wanted to break from the British Empire by ending their relationship with the crown. So really, our country was born in divisibility.

After a hard day toiling in the garden, the boys get to relax in their friend Will’s hot tub. What a hard life they lead?!

They believed that no association should be coerced, especially one to an overbearing central government. And all the states made doggone sure that this federal union was a voluntary compact before they ratified the U.S. Constitution.

Secession is part of our heritage, no matter what progressive pundits or mainstream Civil War historians say. Questioning the republic and the flag for which it stands is as American as apple pie; it is truly in line with our founding as a nation of conscience.

If you don’t believe me, check out the Virginia and Kentucky Resolutions. Here you’ll find that both Madison and Jefferson challenged the authority of one governmental entity ruling over the “sovereign” and “independent” many by promoting the remedies of “nullification” and “dissolution.” Sure sounds like a lot of divisibility going on to me.

But we aren’t barbarians, for goodness sake. We do have manners. So, at the opening of CC or garden club, we simply stand out of respect to our friends, but we don’t do the recitation or place our hands upon our hearts. Nuff said.