By Wilson Love
Just off the edge of our backyard, in a slightly open area, is a little spot affectionately known as the burn pile. We’re outside the city limits (thank God!) and the county graciously allows folks to burn “naturally occurring vegetation from your own property”. With a winter of wind and rain like we’ve just had, the burn pile saw plenty of action from the weather stripped trees around here. Add to that, the limbs trimmed for tree health and appearance, and we reduced a lot of ugly sticks to ash.
Now imagine a place where that same pile of ugly sticks would have great value. I’ve just returned from the nation of Nicaragua, one of the small countries south of us between Mexico and Panama. My church and many others send teams there regularly to help the impoverished people. It staggers our pampered minds to see firsthand those without decent shelter; living in the dirt and often without clean water and enough to eat.
Outside the cities, the only means most people there have to cook food is over a wood fire. They cut and bundle sticks, up to about baseball bat thickness and six or seven feet long, to be either carried by hand, loaded on a feeble horse, or moved on some sort of makeshift cart.
At the cook pit a tiny fire is kindled; just enough to prepare the day’s ration of rice, beans, or fritters. As soon as cooking is finished those burning sticks get plucked from the pit, red coals are scraped off with a rusty machete, and the unburned stubs saved for another day’s fire.
So a pile of sticks can be trash or treasure, an eyesore or a lifeline, depending on where you live. As I pondered this while sitting in my comfortable living room, a mockingbird appeared outside the window. We’ve seen this particular bird many times and refer to him as that crazy mockingbird. This species is territorial to put it mildly. Males and females will aggressively fight off other mockingbirds that happen to trespass into their space.
The craziness happens when our pet mocker sees himself as a reflection in a windowpane or truck mirror. You guessed it; he attacks the “intruder” by flying right into the glass, not once or twice but over and over again. Some people never learn.
The thought came to me that we fat and sassy Americans – like the mockingbird – don’t know who we are. Our self-image is out of whack. We don’t know that we’re the most blessed and abundant people on the planet. We cook on wood fires and sleep on the ground for fun when camping.
Could it be time to look in the mirror and once again see a people who called ourselves “one nation under God”? Our oneness of purpose has given way to self-indulgence and argument. It seems that whoever has the loudest, nastiest voice receives the most press. Internal fighting rules the day.
But one of our greatest strengths has always been the unity of common goals. We did not gain our independence from tyranny with social or political debates, or grow into the greatest country on earth by way of internal division. As a nation, we were born and built by standing together on our Godly values – and fighting together against those who stood against us. (Luke 11:17)
I’m thankful to have my eyes opened to how good we have it. Anyone who visits a Third World country is likely to return here more appreciative of who we are, and more protective of losing our identity.
Wilson Love is Owner/Operator of The Practical Outdoorsman.