Seeing The Future
October 24, 2009
On the edge of the real world I hold on to the vestiges of human nature in its graceful state of harmony between heaven and earth. Each day brings more surprises as I realize that I had no idea what I was thinking when I was in Korea admiring the love and adoration that children enjoyed there.and finally praying for a chance to see that kind of love and social support come to the United States. I had no idea at all of what I was asking for when I got on my knees to ask God to grant me a chance to help the children I remembered as having far less than Korean children; to ask the Loving Creator of All Light and Dark to allow me to return to the United States had implications that are far beyond my ability to accomplish.
In all truth, my very survival is directly linked to the association I have with the precious children who have not yet been corrupted by the all pervasive toxic social environment they must circulate in. Most people instinctively know that there is an unseen danger that surrounds these precious children I live and work with; it's a kind of common sense that anyone who does anything to harm these children are playing with a kind of spiritual nuclear bomb; by this I mean that the consequences for causing any of these little ones harm carries an instant penalty with it; wise are they who steer away from them if they feel incapable of living truely loving lives before them.
I am aware that I am here by permission and definitely running on over time; there are two exits and everyone caught in this human tragedy, work hard to block one of these exits however quiet, peaceful and natural it is, the other is quite the opposite but it is the one I dream about. Like watching the last bit of sand running out of an hour glass, I need to hold firm and know that before the last grain of sand falls through, a way will be provided that will leave no body behind.
The longer I stay in the United States, the more I realize that whatever I'm living in grew up in this country but at about 18 years old I knew there was a spark inside of me that was not part of this world; this spark is commonly known as conscience and it first came into full flare when I was lined up for the Vietnam War fodder list. I had enough conscience to wonder why the United States was involved in yet another war against the evils of communism. The closer I drew to the warmth created by conscience the more I began to wonder about the United States and the people they thought of as evil. I ask the very young children why daddies go off to war and the common response is, "To kill the bad guys". Recently I came face to face with someone who admitted to killing people who are from my extended family; what should I do? Naturally I was shocked and hurt beyond understanding but my very survival depended upon remembering the words, "Father forgive them for they don't know what they are doing.
It has been a long journey and survival to this time is due in whole to the power of Love Creative. I'm slowly learning that I can't trust anything motivated to assure the protection and preservation of the physical world and everything connected to it; this naturally means I must examine my own motives of physical self preservation; do I compromise conscience in the effort to assure physical survival?
My thoughts drift back to a time long ago upon my second long awaited return to Alaska. I remember being picked up from the freezing weather on the highway by a fellow on his way from the Yukon to Alaska; though this ride was what I consider very good fortune, I soon realized that in his heart and mind he held a hate and disdain for the very God of Love. When I became aware of this I felt like I was riding with a bleeding fish in shark infested waters; knowing that nature is swift and accurate to clean itself of injured faulty creatures, I wanted to get out of the car before he had an accident. Even though it had been six years that I had waited to gain permission to return to my homeland, I got out of the car just short of the Alaska boarder and hitch hiked back to the Yukon.
After living 11 years in the morally super pure atmosphere of Korean culture, the spark of conscience grew stronger and brighter finally burning away all of what I knew of myself before coming to Korea. I thought that I would just return to my country and settle in but after 8 month I feel more isolated than before I arrived. I'm not living in my country at all, for my country is not of this world; Korea is close to that wonderful homeland.
I have made great efforts to avoid the US media or focusing on anything linked to the darkness. As mentioned before, I owe a great deal of my survival to the wonderful fellowship I have with the children I teach; being so young they have not learned the skill of lying and deceit so common to many who are older than they are. In so many ways the children are very much like people in Korean culture who hold to Confucian values of honor, respect, truth and hard work. For me, the children I teach are like little stars that shine and twinkle with warmth and light; regardless of the awesome fact that the sun in the arctic is heading for a time of hiding below the southern mountain range and 3 months, I am encouraged by the fact that I can still bake giant cookies that children can enjoy at the end of the week.
Many grown ups think that the idea of children being able to share with others is an impossible educational goal, I have now witness two times where very young children have taken their hard earned cookie and divided it very honestly with each student according to the effort they made in class that week.
I began by saying, "Seeing the Future." I say this because my fortunate work with children in Korea and now in the foreign world of the United States has afforded me with a glimpse of a world yet to be, a world I will happily not be here to see but rest in my heart that I have met children in the United States who are loved by their moms and dads. It has been a great encouragement for me to see fathers come and pick up and drop off their children; I'm not sure how long it will last but I'm positive this is the last chance I will have. It feels like I'm trying to hold hands in a river that flows with greater and greater turbulence; the rush and tumble of the increasing white waters causes me to lose grip and reach out in flailing effort to find the little hands I hold to to make sure they are safe; I can only pray they their parents are close by the river and their angels stay close.
The river that suddenly broke up last May is now slowly freezing over and there is a narrow lead of open water between the two frozen shores. Maybe I will have a chance to paddle one more time. | 
