Pagans v Christians

Awhile ago, I reviewed a book called Thy Kingdom Fall that portrayed Pagans as godless villains out to take over the world and do away with all other religions.  The book made me so angry, I wanted to hurl my Kindle across the room.  It’s bad enough that so many Christians paint Pagans as Devil worshipers, but this man vilified us in a novel, portraying us as the exact opposite of who and what we are.

Yes, I am a Pagan.  I was raised Lutheran, spent eleven years as a Catholic and am now Pagan.  I believe there’s a power greater than myself.  I believe that power has both feminine and masculine energies and I honor both.  My patron Goddesses are Diana and Rhiannon, and my patron God is Dwe (a Celtic God/King whose symbol was the dragon—ironic, eh?).  Wiccans believe in karma and the power of three—what you send out will come back to you threefold.  That adds some punch to the Golden Rule.  You’d better think thrice before you send out negative energy.

As for Jesus, I think he was a great man, and that the Nicene Council edited out a whole lot of his life and message. The Gospels they kept in the New Testament were not written down when he lived—they were written decades, even a century later. Have you ever played Operator? How garbled was the message by the time it got around the table? How garbled do you think Christ's message may have been by the time it was written down a century after he gave it? Or after a power and money-greedy Roman Emperor and his cronies got through with it? There are eighteen years gone. Do you really think the kid who sat in the Temple in Jerusalem discussing theology with the elders of the church for three days and never missed his parents went home and worked as a carpenter with his dad for the next eighteen years? Isn't it possible he traveled with his uncle, Joseph of Arimethea, to the East? Could the Catholic concept of going to "Purgatory" to "work off a few demerits before you get into Heaven" (as my ex explained it to me when I converted) possibly be the same as reincarnating until you work out your issues and go to Nirvana? Only "Purgatory" gives more control to the leaders of the church. After all, one of them sold tickets to get out of Purgatory and into Heaven faster when he wanted to raise money to build St. Peter's Basilica, thus prompting Martin Luther to say, "Hey, that's wrong! We need to reform the Catholic Church." Which, of course, got him ex-communicated, started The Reformation, and the entire "Protestant" movement. I didn't become Pagan because I knew nothing about the Judeo/Christian paradigm. I guess I knew too much about it.

I advocate the separation of church and state.  I think it is inappropriate for the words “In God we Trust” to appear on our currency.  So did President Theodore Roosevelt.  The words “under God” were not added to the Pledge of Allegiance until June, 1954, when everyone was afraid Communists were lurking around each corner.  The country did fine without those words in the Pledge in the decade prior to that when it first became official, and had done since 1892 when it was first composed.

I advocate these actions not because I want to wipe out anyone else’s religion, but because these words fail to honor the freedom of religion upon which our country was based.  That freedom is guaranteed in the First Amendment of our Constitution—a document I took an oath to uphold and protect.  As it stands, including them goes against the principle of separation of church and state our forefathers advocated.

The United States is home to people who practice a plethora of religions, calling their deities by a multitude of names, including God, Yahweh, Allah, Great Spirit, Buddha, and Vishnu to name a few.  Yes, I included Allah in there, even though many people consider Arabs to be our enemies right now.  Most people don’t realize it, but Muslims and Judeo/Christians worship the same God.  That’s why they fight over Jerusalem—they share many sacred religious sites.  Abraham had two sons, Isaac and Ishmael.  The Israelites descended from Isaac, and the Arabs descended from Ishmael.  They all worship the God of Abraham.  The difference in name comes only from the difference in the development of their languages. For that matter, extremist groups like Isis and Al Qaeda are to Islam what the Ku Klux Klan is to Christianity.  They aren't practicing the tenets of their religion any more than the Klan.  The Koran does not tell Arabs to kill non-believers.  It says Allah will punish them. Again, "Let he who is without sin cast the first stone." It preaches the Golden Rule, just as the Bible does.

I even knew a person in a Twelve Step program once who called her higher power Irving until eventually she said, “Well, maybe there’s a God and maybe I can stop calling him Irving.”  I knew someone else who simply referred to “H.P.”  That was my nickname for the deity during my transition from the Judeo/Christian belief system to paganism, and I still often say, “Thanks H.P.,” when I’m grateful for something.

Pagans won the right to have Pentacles carved on our headstones in National Cemeteries.  It took us a couple of decades to win that right.  We did not request the government remove the crosses, stars of David or any of the other thirty-some symbols allowed.  All we asked for was recognition of our beliefs.  Austin Dragon, author of Thy Kingdom Fall, along with many conservative Facebookers, portrays us as trying to rip the crosses out of that hallowed ground.  We do not do that.

Pagans are accepting people.  We do not judge; at least we try not to.  Nor do we proselytize.  When was the last time a pagan knocked on your door at some ridiculous hour of the morning or in the middle of your supper and tried to convert you?

Thanks for visiting.

The Thin Person Inside by Rochelle Weber

Will Cinderella make it to the ball? She did in the fairy tale, but in these fresh takes on the original, just about anything can happen—and usually does. Fifteen romance authors have served up delicious samples of their Cinderella-themed stories, along with a feast of tasty treats and glitzy party ideas. Tap into your inner princess and indulge in excerpts sparkling with dream-come-true romance, nail-biting suspense, haunting magic, bubbly chick lit humor and tear-jerking heartaches.

After sampling our tasty morsels, you’ll find a treasure-trove of recipes and ideas to inspire your next party. Let the Glass Slipper Sisters style your regal table to perfection, thanks to the gorgeous, but quick and inexpensive adornments and easy-to-prepare scrumptious delights. You’ll even find a few party games that can be adapted for your royal guests whatever their age. Excerpts from the following books are included within the pages.

Cinder the Fae by Rebekah R. Ganiere

Cinderella Had it Easy by Jennifer Connor

The Cinderella Princess by Melissa McClone

The Cinderella Series ~ the collection by Kae Elle Wheeler

Cinderella's Enchanted Night by Amber Daulton

Fairy Tale Flirts! 5 Romantic Short Stories by Lisa Scott

Fooling around with Cinderella by Stacy Juba

Home Sweet Texas Home by Caroline Clemmons

Nobody's Cinderella by Joan Reeves

Pumpkin: A CinderMama Story by Ines Johnson

Savage Cinderella by P. J. Sharon

Second Chance Cinderella by Sharon Kleve

Spellbound Cinderella by Angela Ford

The Thin Person Inside by Rochelle Weber

Wishful Thinking by Lynette Sofras

You can get The Cinderella Treasure Trove for free at the following venues:

Amazon: http://tinyurl.com/cttriwamz

BN:         http://tinyurl.com/cttriwbn

Kobo:     http://tinyurl.com/cttkobo

iTunes:   http://tinyurl.com/cttitunes

We call ourselves the #GlassSlipperSisters, and for the next few weeks, I plan to host each of my fellow Glass Slipper Sisters, and highlight her book. This week, I’d like to showcase The Thin Person Inside by Rochelle Weber. [Yup, gotta include my book, too!]

The Plot:

Kristen Jensen, a Navy veteran, is at the end of her rope. She weighs almost three hundred pounds, and she’s becoming a cripple. Desperate for help, she asks her VA therapist if she can go into treatment with the addicts and the alcoholics. In treatment, Kristen meets Sean Wesley. She melts when she sees his black hair, blue eyes and perfect body, and assumes the only reason he’s speaking to her is that she’s the only other person in the room. She has no clue, at first, who he really is, or what a rock star could ever see in her.

Sean thinks it’s tragic that a pretty girl is trapped inside such a huge body, and when she shares her story, he’s impressed by her openness and honesty. She’s the bravest person he’s ever met, sitting with her fruit and salad surrounded by people eating the day-old pastry donated by the local bakery. He finds himself drawn to her, but she’s had decades to build her layers of defense.

Bio:

Rochelle Weber is a Navy veteran with a BA in Writing from Columbia College in Chicago. Her novels Rock Bound and Rock Crazy are available in both e-book and print. Her third book, The Thin Person Inside, is available at MuseItUp Publishing, Inc. Ms. Weber edits for The Author’s Secret, and publishes the Marketing for Romance Writers Newsletter, winner of the 2013 Preditors & Editors Readers’ Poll for Best Writers’ Resource. She also started Roses & Thorns Reviews and currently has two partners.

Ms. Weber battles bi-polar disorder, quipping, “You haven’t lived until you’ve been the only woman on the locked ward at the VA.” Her song, “It’s Not My Fault,” won a gold medal in the National Veterans Creative Arts Competition. She has lost over a hundred pounds and kept it off for four years. She lives in Round Lake Beach, Illinois with two cats who have her very well-trained.

Website:  http://www.rochelleweber.com

Buy Links:

Amazon:   http://tinyurl.com/rwttpiAmazon

Barnes and Noble: http://tinyurl.com/rwttpiBarnes and Noble

Resurrecting the Blog

Hi Everyone:

I have been extremely remiss in terms of keeping up this blog, and my sales have shown it. Frankly, I could use an assistant or better yet, a publicist. Unfortunately, I can’t afford one, and I don’t quite have the energy to do all the things I should do each day to write, maintain my blogs, and keep up with my editing schedule.

There are two days each week when I don’t have access to wi-fi because I’m doing volunteer work at The Captain James A. Lovell Federal Health Care Center, which is next door to the Great Lakes Naval Training Center, about fifty miles north of Chicago. They combined the Navy hospital with the North Chicago VA, and I believe it’s the best facility for veterans in the country. As a pilot program, it’s certainly the most scrutinized. We have Suits (members of Congress and the Administration) and Brass (Admirals from the Pentagon) visiting all the time.

The Primary Care Kiosk

I help people with a program called My Health e-Vet that enables vets to refill their meds, check their labs, x-rays and other tests, medical notes, and to communicate with their VA caregivers from their home computers. We sign up new patients, help people find lost user IDs and passwords, and give them tutorials on using the system. We have two kiosks—one in Primary Care and one in the Pharmacy. I usually inhabit the one in the Pharmacy, and for some reason, people come in, walk right past the Quarterdeck where there are both Navy and civilian personnel whose main duty is to give directions, and they come to me and ask where their clinics are. Fortunately, I’ve been around the hospital a long time and I’m usually able to help.

We have another program called “No Veteran Dies Alone.” It was started by a volunteer here who was a Navy wife. She knew so many patients who had no one left when they died—no loved ones to sit with them, so she suggested volunteers do so. We try to provide twenty-four hour coverage, but we don’t always quite manage it. Right now, I’m the only volunteer who takes the mid-shift and I can’t always stay the entire time from midnight when our evening lady leaves to six-thirty when our first daytime man comes on, especially if I’ve been there or will be there all day doing My Health e-Vet as well.

If we are there when a patient dies, we stay for the Final Salute, also started by the same lady. Hospitals transport patients to the morgue in a hollow gurney, usually with just a white sheet so no one knows there’s a body in it. We put a red, white and blue afghan on our gurney. Uniformed personnel, any volunteers who can get there, and the staff line the corridor of the ward. During business hours a chaplain officiates and says a prayer if the patient or family requests it, and we play a recording of TAPS. Everyone salutes as the gurney passes. It’s very moving. I feel privileged to be part of that program. We hold a memorial service once a year for our patients, and their families attend. We volunteers represent the patients who had no families, especially if we were with them at the end. I was in a video about the program. Here’s the URL:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XlbHapqFXug&list=UUEnEyY39M6VRVDCjqAZfmww&index=5

So, that’s what I’ve mostly been up to this past year. Hanging out at the VA and, oh yes! My daughter got married to a wonderful man. It was a truly beautiful wedding—a fairlytale, complete with crossed lightsabres at the reception. The kids love Star Wars. I can truly say a good time was had by all.

Welcome Home, Viet Nam Vets

There was a story on the news last night that caught my eye because it took place in Mahomet, Illinois.  Where in tarnation is Mahomet, what does it have to do with Viet Nam veterans, and why would it pique my interest?

Mahomet is maybe ten/fifteen miles west of Champaign in the area referred to as East Central Illinois.  Because of my bi-polar disease, I gave up custody of my kids and they lived in Farmer City, Illinois, a few miles farther west from Mahomet.  When my daughter was in band her Freshman year of high school, the first parade she ever marched in was in Mahomet.  I moved down to that area when I found myself on disability and unable to afford Chicago rents.  So, hearing that the Chicago news picked up a story in Mahomet kind of shocked me.  Not much happens down there.

The story was about a young veteran who lost a leg in Iraq.  When he came home, his neighbors got together and built a house for him, but it turned out that he couldn’t maneuver his wheelchair in it very well.  He was fairly alright during the day, but at night getting from his bed to the bathroom proved difficult.  I’m not sure how they heard about it at the Art Institute of Chicago’s School of Design, but they did and some students and an instructor decided to turn it into a class project.  They went down to Mahomet, took measurements, then came back to Chicago and came up with a design that would be more accessible.  They made another trip downstate to install and implement their designs and the young man can now get back and forth between his bed and bathroom without bumping into anything or scraping the paint off the walls.

Okay, so what does this have to do with Viet Nam?  The said she instructor came of age during the Viet Nam era.  She remembers how the young men who returned home from that conflict were treated—pretty abominably.  They weren’t welcomed home; they were spat upon and pelted with rotten fruit and vegetables by protesters when they deplaned in uniform.  They didn’t dare set foot in public until their hair grew out so people wouldn’t immediately identify them as military or recent vets.  There were no yellow ribbons or flag wavers for them.  The instructor and her team have created a not-for-profit organization so they can create accessible living spaces for veterans of all ages.

Very few of us were able to separate the men from the politics back then and say, “This Viet Nam War sucks, but it’s not the soldiers’ fault.”  I’m rather proud to say I was one of those few.  I was a USO volunteer for two years before I enlisted in the Navy.  I sometimes feel guilty accepting VA benefits because I enlisted for purely selfish reasons and I got pretty much everything I hoped for or expected from the Navy, as well as a few perks after I got out that I didn’t expect.

Today, I thank anyone who has served in harm’s way regardless of the campaign in which they served, but there’s an extra-soft spot in my heart for Viet Nam vets.  They finally got their welcome home parade sometime in the eighties, around the time the Viet Nam Memorial was unveiled, but I think they deserved a lot more than that—an apology from the American public would help a lot.  I met a man this morning when I was doing my daily walk at the Volo Auto Museum.  He was not only a Viet Nam Veteran—he’d been a POW.  He got a thank you, a hug and a salute after a good half-hour’s chat.

Part of the problem is that no one knew why we were in Viet Nam or how we got there.  Viet Nam was a French colony until the early fifties when Communist China started infiltrating the country, and a Communist regime took hold.  Somehow, the country split in half with the Communists running the North and the South teetering on the brink of communism.  The French retreated and asked us to cover their derrieres.  For a short time, they allowed people to move to South Viet Nam.  We had hospital ships in Hanoi Harbor to help process the refugees, and military advisors in Viet Nam as early as 1954, and we didn’t leave until April, 1975.  We withdrew from North Viet Nam and tried to prevent the Communists from taking over South Viet Nam.  We were involved in the Vietnamese Civil War for 21 years, spanning the Eisenhower, Kennedy, Johnson and Nixon Administrations, and for those of you who love trivia, Nixon was Vice President when we went to Viet Nam and President when we came home.  Should we have left when the last French citizen left?  Possibly.  Probably.  We lost that war and communism took over South Viet Nam.  Saigon was renamed Ho Chi Minh City, and now the place is a tourist attraction.

Anyway, when you see a veteran—thank him or her.

Happy Easter; or Shalom.