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Topic: THE WHOLE WORLD IN GOD’S HANDS (not the song) (05/28/15)
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TITLE: Contrast | Previous Challenge Entry
By Gary Ritter
05/30/15 -
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The teacher detained Cole in school today and he was late getting home. He mumbled that the reason was some kind of disagreement she had with him, but we needed to go, so I didn’t pursue it then. I hustled him into his baseball uniform and into the car, and away we went.
On the drive to the ballfield I glanced in the rearview mirror and smiled at my little man. Seven years old, his cap on crooked, a slight gap in his teeth showing when he grinned; I marveled at this life God had entrusted to me.
When we arrived at the park Cole unbuckled his seatbelt and ran for the dugout to join his dad and teammates. I was so proud of both my husband and Cole. Denny coached the team, always doing what was necessary to get away from work to give his son the time that a father must in order to raise him right and instill Godly values. I took my seat in the bleachers to watch the game.
Sometimes I wondered if these children were too young to learn this sport that demanded so much coordination and thought. The kids had to grasp the fundamentals of throwing, catching, and batting, let alone the strategies necessary to handle base running, throwing cutoff balls from the outfield, and backing up a fielder in case the ball got past him. It was enough to make my head spin sometimes, and I wondered how these children retained it all.
Cole had a couple at-bats, got a hit – yea! – then his dad replaced him so another child would have his chance to play. A nearby fan snapped a photograph of my boy, his bat connecting with the ball. I beamed.
Later Cole confided to Denny and me that he had wanted to share a Bible verse in class but his teacher wouldn’t let him. It saddened me that so many schools decided God had no place in them. Still I know He is in charge and that the entire world will bow its knee to Him some day.
Safiyya – Gaza Strip:
My boy Abdul came home from school today, his feet covered with dust, his clothes wrinkled. I shook my head in dismay. His eight brothers had somehow managed not to vex me with such untidiness. I brushed my seven-year-old off and gave him his green scarf that he proudly wore as part of his Hamas training.
We walked the mile to the meeting place to join with Abdul’s classmates and two of his older brothers, who were instructors. I asked him what he’d learned this morning in class. He spit and said, “About the pig Jews.”
I encouraged him to say more and he told me how our holy book taught faithful followers to search out and kill the unclean infidels; that even the trees would cry out to say the Jews were hiding behind them.
“It was a good lesson then?”
“Oh, yes, mother.”
I patted him on the head, pleased his education was advancing.
Mahad and Said were the only two of Abdul’s brothers remaining on earth. My six other sons had followed the call of jihad and sacrificed their lives. Each one destroyed many Jews and Christians on his way to glory bringing much respect to our family.
Abdul took his place among his classmates while my older sons brought out simulated weapons for the boys to practice with. My little one handled his rifle well and earned Mahad’s praise. Abdul beamed later as well when Said told him that some day he would have the honor of killing many Americans. Next to the Little Satan, Israel, the Great Satan was our most hated enemy. Praise Allah that my family has had such wonderful opportunity to do the will of our god.
Mahad brought out a picture to show to his students. The image, taken in America, had been photographed by one of our supporters. “This boy with the stick in his hand hitting the ball is named Cole,” Mahad said. “You learn to kill. He plays foolish games. I assure you, Abdul, he and others like him will die at your hands because we follow the Prophet of god. Peace Be Upon Him.”
What a wonderful thought. There will be a day when Allah reigns supreme with all the world submitted to his will. And paradise awaits my family because my sons faithfully obeyed Muhammad’s laws.
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It makes me grateful for where I was born, but also sad, knowing that these others don't know the true God, the One who died for them. It makes my heart ache.