Hate: The Root of Terrorism

There are many faces of terrorism.  Terrorism by definition is the act of inflicting terror.  It is not limited to a particular race, religion, political affiliation or nationality.  It comes in all shapes, sizes and colors.  It cannot be stopped because it cannot be seen until after it has unleashed its wrath.

 

 

In the wake of what happened Monday in Boston, it is difficult for me to listen to the peaceful activists who rise up to defend the international terrorists by saying, “How do you think they feel when our troops come to their countries, destroy their homes and murder their loved ones?” 

First, we don’t know if what occurred in Boston was the work of an international terrorist or a domestic one.  All we know is that it was indeed an act of terrorism.  Regardless, a terrorist’s actions should never be defended.

Second, and some have called me naïve, I don’t believe our American troops go into other countries and intentionally blow up innocent people.  I know there have been situations where innocent lives have been lost, but I do not believe the act was with intent and malice.  I know many US soldiers from several military branches and none of them have ever spoken of killing innocent women and children merely for the sake of killing.  None of them have pretended to blend with the culture, waited for a crowded event like the Boston marathon and then planted explosive devices so that they could kill unarmed, non-violent citizens.  We can debate whether or not our troops belong in other countries…but I will not believe we go there with terrorism in our hearts.

This marks that pacifist argument void in my book.

 

I’ve taken some flak for my harsh anti-terrorism view, but it doesn’t change my stance.  I understand it sounds harsh, but I believe all terrorists should be killed.  Let me put it in softer terms, though the outcome is the same…I believe that what comes around should go around; what is sown should be reaped.  Or, I can put it this way:  Karma.  Whatever you want to call it, I believe it’s time to take a stand against all terrorism and against all hate, regardless of what face it bears.

There are more good people in the world than bad.  There is more kindness than hatefulness, but what happens is that every act of terrorism causes a dual reaction among people.  It can either paralyze people into a fearful existence or it can empower people into a positive position of helpfulness.  Let it do the latter.

Goodness, helpfulness, love, peace and truth will prevail in the end, but let me say this:  They will not prevail by taking a pacifist stance and excusing terrorist behavior.  They prevail by ridding our nation and our world of terrorism.  They prevail by stopping the hate, not explaining it away, justifying it or ignoring it. 

Take a stand against hate in all of its many forms, and love will conquer.  ~

 

How Times Have Changed

Valentine’s Day is just around the corner and it got me thinking. When I was single, Valentine’s Day was all about having a date for the evening, planning out what I would wear, painting my nails pink or red, anxiously awaiting his arrival, going out to dinner, the goodnight kiss, etc.  The whole day was spent dreaming of a romantically magical evening. 

Twenty years and two kids later… Valentine’s Day means something entirely different.  Now, it’s about making shoe boxes into the perfect Valentine receptacle, about purchasing Valentines for each child’s friends and classmates, and about buying teacher gifts and making treats for classroom parties.  By the time the day is done, I’m too tired to even think about a romantically magical evening… besides, finding a babysitter for Valentine’s Day is virtually impossible.  All the babysitters are young and single and busy preparing for their magical evenings.

By the time we get the kids to bed, my husband and I will look at each other and exhale.  We’ll both be beat.  We’ll open a bottle of red wine, exchange cards and snuggle on the couch to a re-run of Star Trek: The Next Generation.  Twenty years ago I would have said this was lame…but now, it feels blissfully wonderful.

 

And if we stay awake long enough... we enjoy a lot more than just a goodnight kiss.  :)

 

Shocked, Scared, Stranded...but Alive

On September 11, 2001 I sat on the couch with my infant daughter, rocking her back and forth, staring at the television in horror.  Like every American, I was terrified.  But, on that morning, I wasn’t only afraid for our nation.  My fear was personal.  I was afraid I had lost my husband.

My husband, Cash, traveled every week for work, and after years of this travel lifestyle I stopped writing down his flight numbers.  So, on the morning of 9/11 all I knew was that Cash was leaving Boston on a United flight, home to Colorado.  The first plane hit the Towers and I stood frozen.  The second plane hit and I, like the rest of the world, began to realize we were under attack.  The news reported that the planes were both United flights, heading westbound out of Boston, and I couldn’t breathe.

Diving for the phone, I dialed Cash’s cell phone, but he didn’t answer.  I dialed again and again and again for seven minutes straight.  It was the longest seven minutes of my life.  When he finally answered I almost collapsed with relief.  He was alive.  Shocked, scared and stranded; but alive.

It took Cash another five days to make it home and when I saw him cross the threshold of our front door, it was one of the best moments of my life. 

My 9/11 story had a happy ending, but for others that wasn’t the case; and today, especially, I pray for those whose loved ones didn’t come home.  ~