There’s a catch in the Lord’s Prayer.
It says “Forgive us our sins as we forgive those who sin against us.”
The same kind of catch is in one of the two great laws.
It says “Love your neighbor as yourself.”
We’re praying that God forgive our sins only to the extent that we forgive those who sin against us.
And if we have no self-respect, we’re going to have trouble loving our neighbors.
Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. The first move’s on you; that is to say, it’s up to us.
I never heard the expression “I know you are, but what am I?” until (of all things) the movie Pee Wee’s Big Adventure.
It comes to mind as I watch the reaction to the new song “Try That in a Small Town,” which suggests that big-city violence would not have a long shelf life in a smaller community.
“See how far ya make it down the road; Around here, we take care of our own,” sings Jason Aldean. “You cross that line, it won’t take long for you to find out.”
“It’s racist!” “I know you are, but what am I? Your songs advocate violence in the first place!” “I know you are, but what am I?”
It’s stupid to condone violence under any circumstances. It’s stupid to make judgments based on race or skin color under any circumstances. And what is “race” if not separation based on skin color? We’re all homo sapiens — all this talk about different human races is a silly (or evil) attempt to divide and perhaps (probably) conquer.
It all comes down to a single law — Love one another, one of two central laws — the other is Love God.
All this noise — all these screams of “You started it!” and “I’m just responding to what you said/did” — is a variation on “I know you are, but what am I?” Enough already. Can we just get back to Love God and Love one another? And if you can’t wrap your mind around God, can we at least try loving one another? Do you have a problem with love? Really?
The cycle of violence/retaliation ends either when someone refuses to retaliate or when everyone’s dead. Myself, I prefer the idea of someone refusing to meet violence with violence. Peace has to start somewhere, with someone.
Before we even built the house, we stuck three sticks in the ground. The other day, when I took this photo from atop our mound, and I saw the magnificent trees that our sticks have become, I thought of the name for our 3.33 little acres of paradise: Three Willows.
They say you shouldn’t name a stray puppy unless you want to keep it. Does that apply to 3.33 acres of paradise, too? If so, I guess I plan to stay here forever.
There are plenty of worse alternatives. Three Willows sits along the frontage road that used to be what is now the four-lane highway uphill from us. But downhill! There is the approximately one-acre field that I named Willow’s Field long ago because of the way our beloved golden retriever loved to run and retrieve her orange disc — I called it The Ting as in, “Get The Ting!” and she would do it over and over tirelessly.
About another acre, sloping downward, is a lovely little woods of about an acre, and down below is a wetland. The land is pie-shaped, and the point of the pie is 150 feet, more or less, from the waters of Green Bay. Because of the woods you can only see the bay in the winter, but you can certainly hear it on a windy night!
It took 11 years of living memories to come up with the name, but it feels like it fits. And so, welcome to Three Willows.
P.S. I posted this picture and this thought on Facebook on Monday and had four dozen “Likes” within four hours. I guess the name is a hit!
