Tuesday, July 12, 2011

Woof Woof

I am a sheepdog!

Dave Grossman, author of "On Killing," tells that a retired general gave him the analogy of the sheep, sheepdog, and wolf. Basically there are three types of people - summarized below.
"If you have no capacity for violence then you are a healthy productive citizen, a sheep. If you have a capacity for violence and no empathy for your fellow citizens, then you have defined an aggressive sociopath, a wolf. But what if you have a capacity for violence, and a deep love for your fellow citizens? What do you have then? A sheepdog..."
If you would like to read the full article, and I suggest you do because it is incredibly enlightening, you can find it here: http://www.mwkworks.com/onsheepwolvesandsheepdogs.html

I am a Sheepdog. At least I want to be. I have some sheepdog tendencies and the more I learn about this world, the more I am determined to NOT be a sheep. Not that there is anything wrong with sheep. Just that I am no longer able to believe in the goodness of human nature.

Jeremiah 17:9 "The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked: who can know it?"

Thirteen years ago I flew for the first time (to San Diego for a stamp/scrapbook convention). I was scared to death. At the check-in my hands were shaking so badly that my hubby had to take the ticket out of my purse for me. I finally got settled into the plane, still scared, and started taking pictures. I have always figured that taking pictures was what made me not afraid. What I forgot until just recently is that I was seated in one of those exit-row seats. The ones that post a warning about the responsibility of sitting in that row. I remember thinking that if there was an emergency on that plane, what kind of person did I want to be?-- the one screaming and needing help, or the calm one helping others. I made a choice to be the calm one helping others. No emergency occurred that flight, and as soon as the plane took off, I became an instant fan of flying and could not WAIT to fly again.
Last year I decided I wanted a Conceal Carry Permit. One of my kiddos' biological fathers was in town and he is a scary dude. I took a carrying-concealed class with my dad, my mother-in-law and father-in-law, a friend from church and my dad's friend. It was a fun class. It also reiterated in my mind that I am, or I want to be, a sheepdog.


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