She rushed into the room and dramatically stumbled through the doorway wearing her best interpretation of shock on her face. I was annoyed. I was in the middle of typing up a paper and she just stood there looking like a bad actor waiting for applause.
"What is it?" I asked with the best tone of patience I could muster under the circumstances; the paper I was writing required a lot of concentration.
"I just found out about the holocaust in World War II!" she exclaimed.
I frowned. I had to remember that she was only thirteen years old and that the scope of her thirteen year old mind was constrained to an orbit determined by the gravity of her more immediate interests - socializing with her friends.
"Okay..." slipped out of my mouth with a hint of impatience.
"They killed people! LOTS of people! And did horrible things to them!" she educated me.
"The trans-atlantic slave trade was worse." I offered.
"Did they burn people alive?" she challenged.
"Worse." I answered matter-of-factly. "Not only did they burn people alive, but crowds of people brought lunches to the events and made it a family outing. And they wouldn't just burn people. They'd beat them, humiliate them, torture them, mutilate them... and then burn them. Sometimes they cut off pieces of the person's body to keep as souvenirs or to send to their friends and acquaintances."
"They would rape people, sick vicious dogs on them to tear 'em to pieces, practice every unimaginable cruelty upon people, even cut mother's wombs open to let the child fall to the ground where it would be stomped and bludgeoned and pitchforked until it stopped screaming."
"And there was more..." I said, sounding as if I were rolling up my sleeves and just getting started.
"I don’t want to know anymore history." she refused.
"You need to know your history to know what you are up against." I informed her. "There are people in this world who do not want you to grow up to be a threat,
so they keep you distracted with fashion, the latest gadgets and sparkling things.
That’s why your education is so important; not the education you receive in school, but how you educate yourself about history, how you educate yourself about God -
so you can build your relationship with God and become powerful enough to make a difference in this world..."
"Whether you like it or not you were born into a war. Call it a war for minds or souls, but it's still a war. And you are fighting against demonic forces. Yes, there are demons in this world; not with horns and sharp teeth and glowing eyes, but people who look just like you and me, people who have decided to work against God."
"I’m scared." she confessed, though I wasn't sure if it was because of the wild look in my eyes or the information I was watering her mind with.
I wanted to tell her that she should be, but I didn't.
"Doesn’t matter what goes on, you know who will win in the end. You just need to decide which side your going to be on." I cajoled her.
"Can I move to Jupiter?" she asked.
"Not now, maybe your great great grandchildren..." I joked, laughing lightly at her response.
"What about mars?" she almost begged.
"Maybe your grandchildren." I smiled. "But you don’t have to worry about that.
You know those so called aliens and UFOs people talk about? They are not creatures from another world. They are humans who have left earth in the future to find a better home after thinking they ruined earth. And they did, in the future. But everyone in the universe knows that earth is a paradise! And one day is as a thousand years and a thousand years as one day; so after a few days, earth will heal and you will be the ancestor of who remains behind to inherit the earth. Those UFOs are from the future - literally having come back from hell to either warn us to change our ways or to try and stack the deck in their favor. The experiment, though, from that point of view always fails - like in the movie, Terminator."
"I'm going to go read." she said, her mind overloaded and depressed.
"Do that." I said, and turned back to the paper I had been interrupted from working on.
"What is it?" I asked with the best tone of patience I could muster under the circumstances; the paper I was writing required a lot of concentration.
"I just found out about the holocaust in World War II!" she exclaimed.
I frowned. I had to remember that she was only thirteen years old and that the scope of her thirteen year old mind was constrained to an orbit determined by the gravity of her more immediate interests - socializing with her friends.
"Okay..." slipped out of my mouth with a hint of impatience.
"They killed people! LOTS of people! And did horrible things to them!" she educated me.
"The trans-atlantic slave trade was worse." I offered.
"Did they burn people alive?" she challenged.
"Worse." I answered matter-of-factly. "Not only did they burn people alive, but crowds of people brought lunches to the events and made it a family outing. And they wouldn't just burn people. They'd beat them, humiliate them, torture them, mutilate them... and then burn them. Sometimes they cut off pieces of the person's body to keep as souvenirs or to send to their friends and acquaintances."
"They would rape people, sick vicious dogs on them to tear 'em to pieces, practice every unimaginable cruelty upon people, even cut mother's wombs open to let the child fall to the ground where it would be stomped and bludgeoned and pitchforked until it stopped screaming."
"And there was more..." I said, sounding as if I were rolling up my sleeves and just getting started.
"I don’t want to know anymore history." she refused.
"You need to know your history to know what you are up against." I informed her. "There are people in this world who do not want you to grow up to be a threat,
so they keep you distracted with fashion, the latest gadgets and sparkling things.
That’s why your education is so important; not the education you receive in school, but how you educate yourself about history, how you educate yourself about God -
so you can build your relationship with God and become powerful enough to make a difference in this world..."
"Whether you like it or not you were born into a war. Call it a war for minds or souls, but it's still a war. And you are fighting against demonic forces. Yes, there are demons in this world; not with horns and sharp teeth and glowing eyes, but people who look just like you and me, people who have decided to work against God."
"I’m scared." she confessed, though I wasn't sure if it was because of the wild look in my eyes or the information I was watering her mind with.
I wanted to tell her that she should be, but I didn't.
"Doesn’t matter what goes on, you know who will win in the end. You just need to decide which side your going to be on." I cajoled her.
"Can I move to Jupiter?" she asked.
"Not now, maybe your great great grandchildren..." I joked, laughing lightly at her response.
"What about mars?" she almost begged.
"Maybe your grandchildren." I smiled. "But you don’t have to worry about that.
You know those so called aliens and UFOs people talk about? They are not creatures from another world. They are humans who have left earth in the future to find a better home after thinking they ruined earth. And they did, in the future. But everyone in the universe knows that earth is a paradise! And one day is as a thousand years and a thousand years as one day; so after a few days, earth will heal and you will be the ancestor of who remains behind to inherit the earth. Those UFOs are from the future - literally having come back from hell to either warn us to change our ways or to try and stack the deck in their favor. The experiment, though, from that point of view always fails - like in the movie, Terminator."
"I'm going to go read." she said, her mind overloaded and depressed.
"Do that." I said, and turned back to the paper I had been interrupted from working on.
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