How Do You Kill Eleven Million People: A Book Review

A dear cousin of mine recently gave me the name of a book by an author unfamiliar to me. The book, The Heart Mender by Andy Andrews, intrigued me because she said it was probably the best book she had ever read. When I checked with my local library they had an audio version of that book and one other print book by him: How Do You Kill 11 million People. I picked up both and easily read the latter eighty page book, reread it and read certain parts that beckoned me.

As you may have guessed it was about the 11 million Jews killed at the direction of Adolf Hitler. However, the author goes on to say it could be written about a number of other genocides such as the Armenian, etc. I urge you to obtain the book and read it for yourself. This review only touches on the content and the answer to that question and its message for you and me today and the future of our country and the world.

The short answer to the title’s question is found in Hitler’s autobiography Mein Kampf: The great masses of people will more easily fall victim to a big lie than a small one.

It is interesting that the book was widely read by the majority of German people and they supported the Fuhrer and his economic agenda anyhow. He spoke of change, great advances for the German people, prosperity. He geared his passionate speeches to whatever audience he was speaking to: farmers, businessmen, factory workers, etc.

But the biggest lie he told was to the Jewish population that he would transport them to a wonderful place where everything would be better for them. Unfortunately, they believed him at first and without force or show of arms by the guards, the Jews boarded the trains. Later a few armed men who did not hesitate to kill those who objected controlled the unarmed, fearful thousands or more Jews boarding death trains. They found the truth too late. And so many Germans ignored the truth of what was plainly happening before their eyes. The few were able to dominate the great numbers of Jews and Germans alike because of fear.

To be Continued….

The Little Lady Bug

She was the smallest one of all
It seemed Josie looked up at everyone
Her sisters and brothers and Mommy.
And way up at Daddy, way, way up.

The thing she most loved to do was build.  
With legos, stix, blocks of all sizes 
Even Lawrence's mini-legos-- once.
Because she was sooo little
Josie tried to build very high towers, 
As she stood on wobbly chairs 
Until she toppled over one time.  

She was tired of being small.
Even her bunny was growing faster than she.

Once she built a wooden block tower 
With grandpa's help, but Mommy called
And they both left to have a snack.

When she came back, she yelled,
“Lawrence you pushed my building over!”
He yelled back, “Not me!”

She cried and Mommy scolded Lawrence
But when she finally stopped crying, Grandpa helped her again.
This time it was twice as tall and steady too.
“Don't dare touch it!” she yelled.
But no one heard her. They'd all gone outside.
She and grandpa went out to join them.
No one would ruin it now.  No one was there, especially not her brother.

“Oh no!  No, no no! Not again!”
She screamed, when she came in and saw the crumpled building.

A Lady Bug landed on her wrist
Looked up at her,  took a breath and blew.
The scattered blocks flew everywhere.
That tiny bug did it.  

Her angel whispered, 
“Now you’ve found someone smaller than you!”

Name Your Angel Childrens' Books	

The Itsy Bitsy Elephant

Gemma loved doing somersaults
She never seemed to tire
 No one ever beat her

She did them everywhere
In the living room
The bedroom and kitchen
And the best place, the backyard 

One day she asked
“Can I go outside to play?”
“If you stay where Miss Shirley can watch you.  
But not too many somersaults!”

She tried but failed
And did tooooo many.
Then laid on her back
And closed her eyes to rest.

Suddenly something bounced off her stomach
She blinked and saw it__ 
An itsy bitsy elephant
White with gold sparkles

Doing somersaults
A hundred thousand times
And standing on it's tail.  
Then on it's trunk, it gave a powerful thrust
And flew out of sight!

The itsy, bitsy elephant had beaten her.

Her angel whispered in her ear,
“The elephant escaped from Miss Shirley's collection.”    
Gemma answered, “It always was my favorite.”

Name Your Angel Children’s Books

The Yellow Bird

      
     
        Gianna loved to sing and swing
	So every day after lunch
	She said to mom
	“I'm going out to play.”

	Her sisters wouldn't join her.
	They'd rather watch Peppa Pig
	On u-tube.

	She wished they'd come
	Yet it was good to be alone
	--Sometimes-- but not always.

	Today she wanted company
	But went out by herself 
	Feeling just a little sad.

	She ran across the yard
	Almost flying 
	As if carried by the wind
	And landed on the swing
	
	'Gigi' propelled herself so high 
	The sky almost came to meet her.
	
	She sang a song she made up
	About a little yellow bird.
	As she sang, the tiniest bird
	Circled 'round her

	She kept singing and swinging
	And the bird flew round and round
	And never left

	And every time after that
	When she went out to play alone 
	She had a friend
        Who loved to sing and swing and fly
	
	Reminding her of the angel
	Mommy said would always
	Keep her company.
					11/10/16 	Name Your Angel Children's Books

  

Name your Angel

From the archives of my unpublished writings this is the one and only series of picture books for young children. Three poems from this series will follow shortly.

NAME YOUR ANGEL CHILDREN’S BOOKS

One day many years ago I read somewhere that if you think, without hesitation and ask; “What is your name, Guardian Angel? And it just comes out of thin air; that is indeed your angel’s name. When I asked the question, not dwelling on any names or really trying to hear the name at all, the name came to me. “Rudolph”.

I asked, “What?”

“Rudolph!” I heard it again.

When Jesus visited the earth He was preaching to the people and said, “See that you despise not one of these little ones; for I tell you that in heaven their angels always behold the face of my Father who is in heaven.” Matthew 18:10.

Now you might ask,”If the angels are always there before God, how can each guardian angel be here on earth guarding their given child?”

We can try to reason this out with our human understanding and perhaps some theologians have come up with an answer; however, in answer to this question we can ask a question: How can we understand the mind of God?

We are all children of God. These stories are meant for children of all ages. In the stories I accept that my grandchildren have their angel with them, as well as, with God in heaven. Angels are spirit and not often visible; yet they are real beings.

Young children have a wonderful gift of imagination and love unbelievable things can happen. We should ponder a quote from G.K. Chesterton: ‘Angels can fly because they take themselves lightly’. Be lighthearted in reading these stories to little ones so you may fly with them.

Next up Poem: The Yellow Bird

Another Springtime

The full bloom of a lone dogwood keeps me company this spring morning. If I could retain it in its present form, I would. But then perhaps would the treasure fade? So better it should lose its petals only to return another spring.

As the Son of God was stripped of life one springtime long ago, He shall indeed return to bloom forever in another. And would that we be there and keep Him company in that unending season.

You may want to check out my post from May 17, 2020: Ascension of Jesus

Billions – Millions – Trillions

We’ve been hearing a lot about trillions of dollars being distributed by our government to a great number of people, places, and things,, some of which seem removed from our lives but deemed worthy by? whom. I googled “How many billions is a trillion?” and received an interesting answer on a www. prepscholar.com. Since my blogging has been vacant for some weeks now, due to a blank space in that part of my brain, I will share what i found with you here.

I million is 1000’s 1000 or 1,000,000. If 1 million pennies was stacked up on your desk or anywhere else, it would be 1 mile high. If given to each United States resident or citizen (which is not specified by the site), each would receive i/2 of one cent.

1 billion is 1000 million or 1,000,000,000. The stack would be 870 miles high and each person would get $3.33

! trillion is 1000 billion or 1,000.000.000.000. The stack would be 870,000 miles high and each person would get $3000.

This may be trivia but far from trivial. It is interesting that this particular website/ blog was a site for information on the college admission exams; ACT, SAT, etc. Perhaps they anticipate a sharp rise in education costs. I imagine the printing presses are in full swing in our treasury department. It is miraculous a country in huge debt can just print and spend so generously!!!

The Resurrection: Excerpt from Daybreak

The series of events that occurred next was not only miraculous,it answered the mysteries of my life. I was released from the prison of doubt and set free to accept all that haunted me for so many years.

Part 11 Why do you seek the living among the dead? He is not here, but He has been raised.

Luke 24: 5-6

Peace filled my dreams. Scenes of happiness from my life came to me throughout the night. Times with my parents and family, Sarai, and also friends who came into my life.

On waking I thought of the tomb in the garden where they buried Yeshua. I quietly found my cloak and opened the door to leave. The air felt crisp though not cold.

While all the events of the last three days took place, signs of springtime began to reveal a rebirth in nature? The sun peaked from behind the Mount of Olives as I left the dwelling of Josephus. I found my way out of Bethesda and headed west and through the streets of Jerusalem. They were not yet filled with pilgrims, just an occasional group headed east toward the Temple.

My intended destination lay a mile or more away to an area not far from Golgotha. I noticed the figure of a young woman coming toward me. How strange she walked all alone. She came closer, and I realized I knew her. The woman was my wife. Instead of running toward her, I froze. She turned at an intersection and I lost sight of her.

“Sarai, Sarai! Come back. Don’t leave me,” I called out and ran to the street she entered. A voice spoke to me, not audibly; I heard it with my heart. You’ve seen her but you cannot go after her. All is well.

Tears filled with every emotion relieved a grief I held on to since her passing. At last I felt free from the shadow called death that hung over all mankind. We would meet again, Sarai and I.

***

Nothing could stop me from going to the tomb. The Lord guided my footsteps. I entered the garden through a narrow gate. It was appropriate He rested in a garden. That was His Father’s original intention for all His creation, to live in the garden of Eden. There were sounds of earth’s awakening all around. Birds singing, a small brook splashing over rocks, a gentle breeze rustling through the trees.

I saw the place where we hid yesterday and then the tomb. The entrance was open, the specially made stone rolled to one side. There were no guards or mourners. I hesitated but could not resist entering. The slab was empty where a dead man should have been. Only the burial cloth and the costly scent of myrrh and aloe remained. The appealing fragrance filled the tomb. It felt sacred. In one corner on a small ledge, I noticed the face cloth of Yeshua folded neatly. The light from the entrance lit up the whole area. He had risen as He said!

Trembling I knelt on the stone floor uttering a prayer of gratitude. The Messiah had come. Born like every man, He died so men might live forever. He conquered death by dying and rising. Who could understand the mind of the Lord?

I left the tomb and walked outside into the light. Everything appeared more intense and vivid. Something made me look down and I saw a patch of tiny white flowers, the kind I picked for Sarai the night we met on the roof of my uncle’s home.

I had to tell my dearest relatives: Yeshua had risen! I had to tell everyone.

Palm Sunday: Excerpt from Daybreak

With the gifts of Purim given, I experienced sadness yet freedom. Unaware of what was about to take place in the following month of Nisan, I embarked on relocating to a place overlooking the Kidron Valley and the Mount of Olives. Still grieving the loss of my mother I was comforted by friends with whom I survived the best and the worst of days.

Part 8 Hozanna to the Son of David; blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord Matt.21:9

Entrance of Yeshua into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday

The following morning, the eighth of Nisan, proved to be extremely busy for me. After many sales that morning, absolutely no one passed by after noon and I decided to go home and relax. The sun was well past the highest point in the sky as I sat outside with a cup of wine and some figs and barley bread.

My view to the east faced across the Kidron Valley to the Mount of Olives. I leaned back as far as possible to see the summit but could not view the highest point. Walking out past the cover of the arbor, I was able to see the crest of the lush mountain. It was actually a range of peaks ascending and descending with the final drop being deep into the Kidron Valley before me. I heard commotion off in the distance and saw what at first I thought I imagined, a mass of heads appearing as people approached the summit. Soon I could see a great number in a procession as they came to the crest of the hill.

The river of people streamed down the mount strewing something like branches. As they progressed further, a wide path of greens appeared covering the brown dirt road. It mystified me. What was all this? The sound of singing and laughter like a celebration, perhaps a royal wedding.

The procession continued and I strained to see a man seated on an animal, a donkey. How very strange. After perhaps an hour, some of them were already coming through the valley and back up toward the Sheep Gate, where the lambs to be slaughtered for Passover would soon pass through. The flow of people began to process by on the road to the temple, which lay to my left.

I heard the words they kept singing.

Hosanna to the Son of David. Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord. Hosanna in the highest

I ran back to my dwelling, grabbed my cloak and walking stick, and went to join the procession. By the time I caught up to them, there were hundreds ahead of me. I caught a glimpse of the man on the donkey a ways behind, and the remainder of those processing jubilantly.

“Who is that?” I yelled to get the attention of a poorly dressed man next to me.

“That is a great prophet and wonder worker from Nazareth!” he shouted back.

I realized it was Yeshua. They were proclaiming loudly the Messiah was among us. They recognized him and were praising God whom He called Father. I became part of the great stream of people singing the words written in the Psalms.

My pace slowed purposely and after some time I stood along side Yeshua and looked up at Him. His eyes did not reflect the joy being expressed by the crowds. He smiled at me but the expression of sadness returned. I thought He recognized me and wanted to tell him I no longer sold in the house of His Father. Yet I could not say a word.

Everyone continued walking through the streets leading to the Temple. People still threw palm and olive branches, as well as some cloaks, on the road in front of Yeshua, while their voices increased in volume.

The tension seemed to rise steadily, but as the processors poured into the Court of the Gentiles. their voices no longer chanted praises. Perhaps it was because they feared the scribes and pharisees, many of whom hated Yeshua.

After I entered the Court, I waited for Him and wondered if he would angrily drive out the animals and their sellers and turn over the money tables, as He had done once before. He walked through the Court and looked at everything. He went around alone just observing quietly.

Garden On My Wall

There is a garden on my wall
Flowers, an old cottage
In barely gilded frame
It is misplaced there
From the home I knew
No longer found
Among the trees and grass
And blooms of home
But treasure lies
Within the tarnished frame
No wall confines
The flowers blooming there
Upon my wall.

This short poem was written on June 20, 1996 during some illness that temporarily confined me inside my home. It has been edited several times since then, eliminating some words and changing others. Some years later, I wrote a short piece about the place and time that was the source of its inspiration. I would like to share the first paragraph of that memoir:

The faded picture in its worn frame on my bedroom wall, filled me with an awareness of my past and its affect on my present. It was just an old calendar print, cut and placed under glass in a recycled frame many years ago. It depicted a thatched roofed cottage with a lovely flower garden in front, that hung on the wall above my grandfather’s chair for as long as I remember. I removed it from the vacant, deteriorating farmhouse before they burned it down.

Unfortunately, in an attempt to remove the print from the frame it fell into pieces of aged paper. By chance or perhaps divine providence I found a similar print lovelier than the first in a local antique shop. This now hangs on my wall, a much cherished remembrance. Written in script at the bottom are the words: Home Sweet Home.