The Ring of Humanity

The end of the year nears, and it is this time in December that we become more susceptible to emotions. We miss the things that we no longer have, the towns, and cities where we grew up, the smell of fresh cut evergreens, our old pets, and of course, our family and friends that are no longer with us. Sometimes the silence as well as certain sounds become more pronounced around Christmas, and for many, we are able to see, and hear things that may slip by any other time of the year. Just a few days ago I was told a story by someone very close to me, and I think it serves as a good example of what the spirit of Christmas can, and should be.
Avoiding eye contact with the Salvation Army bell ringer in front of many stores becomes the big challenge for many of us during this season. It may be because we simply do not have any cash on hand, or maybe we just gave some change to the guy at the store a few blocks away. Feeling guilty, we might even mention that, as we pass in hopes of some sort of absolution from the guy or gal holding the bell.
As she approached the store front, the sound of frozen snow and ice crunched under her feet, as if to remind her, of the time of year, and all the things to come, Christmas, New Years, and the decorations that would have to come down soon, hidden from view once again. The sound of a high pitched bell getting louder as it echoes throughout the entrance to the Fred Meyer store. Expecting to see the bell ringer that had been at that location for a number of years in the past, she noticed that it was someone new. Instinctively she reaches into her bag, and pulls out a few bucks, and has it at the ready along with a non directional smile attached to her face. Placing the folded bills into the little red bucket, she looks up, and into the eyes of the bell ringer, her smile broadens as she turns and heads toward the doors, she stops, and looks back. The woman is compelled to turn around, and approach the bell ringer once again, this time looking closer, studying his eyes, and even more so his face, and the steady smile upon it. Another few bucks dropped into the bucket along with words for his ears, "you have a very kind face," but inside the woman felt much more indeed. It was not just a kind face she had gazed upon, but to her, the face of suffering, peace, warmth, and forgiveness all in one. She turns and continues to the door dealing with the thoughts that were now racing through her mind. The doors close behind her as the bell ringer wearing Carhartt bibbed overhauls, (the clothing of a carpenter,) stepped just far enough into the entrance door area to cause it to open. He took a few steps and as the woman turned around, he said "Thank you," and with the same smile he returned to his spot and continued to ring his bell.
It was not easy to shop as she went over the events that had just played out. Had he thanked her for the money she had placed in the bucket, or perhaps for seeing him for what he was? She thought about the man's face and the layers of feelings that she had seen there. She could see suffering, not just of man, but all creatures. A thin veil separated another layer, a layer of warmth, and peace followed by yet a third of forgiveness, and etched deep inside was a simple message of faith. The woman exited the store and sits in her car, and with the sound of the bell now distant, but its power stronger than ever, she begins to sob.
As we approach this Christmas, and reflect upon the past events of a very hard year, would it be so hard to believe that a message from a higher power may have come dressed as a carpenter while ringing a simple bell?
May the coming year be better for all, Merry Christmas to all living things big and small!

Some Sort of Light

Photo by Randy J. Cole 2007

I have often referred to myself as an atheist, but as I get older I find that idea to be distasteful. The thought of passing on with less then a smile on my face just sounds wrong and if there is nothing to look forward to after death then why would one smile. Even as a child I could not embrace the Christian ideology and I still can’t, but having said that, I can tell you that I detest the big mouth atheist who push their ideals upon us all and attempt to use the constitution too accomplish their goals. Let me point out that there is a movement out there to remove the crosses that adorn the headstones on a majority of the graves at Arlington National Cemetery. No thank you, that is not acceptable. How about this, if you are a true atheist just sit down and shut your mouth and let others believe what they want because it isn’t about you, it is about an individual’s beliefs.
I don’t think I am Agnostic, which sounds like an after effect from a botched surgery on ones digestive tract. A person who is an Agnostic is a person who believes that the existence of God is unknown or unknowable but does not deny the existence of God.
Where does this leave me? I am not sure I fall into any category to be honest. I have seen so many things during my lifetime that makes me believe in a higher power of some kind and at this point I am resigned to not labeling it but rather I will just accept it.
The one thing I am sure of, when I die, I prefer to pass out of the darkness and into some kind of light not the other way around. I salute all of you who have strong beliefs and encourage you to stick with them and know that Randy has your back!.

Our Fog

A young Officer R.J. Cole Coliville Police Department

Our Fog




Ladies and gentlemen, once again we have passed into a new year, when most of us spend time looking at the reflection of our lives. We become more emotional and see things in a different light. We remember family members who have passed and welcome the smiling faces of new children born who will take their place at the holiday tables. It is a time when we as Americans should look at our future and ask questions and seek answers.
There is a fog that has descended upon this country obscuring clear direction and free choices that we as Americans once took for granted.
I recall an incident from my early days, 1982, as a police officer in the city of Colville, Washington, which at the time seemed very humorous. Today I see it as a metaphor of what we are now experiencing in this country.
I would like to start this story by admitting to you that I am not a religious person. I do not attend services in any house of worship other than weddings, including my own, and funerals. I also do not consider myself an atheist because I have had enough amazing experiences in my life to know that we do receive gifts of thanks for doing the right things in life. These gifts just don’t happen; they have to come from somewhere or something that is bigger then us mortals.
The Colville valley in Northeast Washington is one of those undiscovered treasures. Truly beautiful to those who live and visit there. The Colville River flows nearby and within a short distance the Columbia rest in the reservoir known as Lake Roosevelt. In the fall and early winter when the air cools these bodies of water create a very dense fog.
It was a cool early December night and I was the only Colville officer on duty. The fog was so thick that the powerful street lights were but a glow, as if someone had laid a thick blanket over them. It was almost impossible to tell where on Main Street you were, unable to recognize any of the features of the buildings. As I slowly drove my patrol vehicle up the street, something to the right caught my eye. I tried to focus and make sense of what I was seeing. A rather bright light is shining low to the ground and I just barely make out the silhouettes of people some standing some appear to be kneeling. I radioed to the dispatcher that I was going to be making contact with a group of unidentified people at an unidentified location somewhere on the main city street. I left the warmth comfort of my car and using my best officer voice I said, “Colville Police, is everything OK?” I received no reply and the only sound that could now be heard was the sound of the snap on my holster being released and the sound of my heart pounding within my own head. I once again announced my presence in a clear loud voice with no response and no visible movement. I walked within feet of the forms only to be confronted by three wise men and numerous barn animals and in the center, a man named Joseph and his wife Mary. They looked fondly down at the face of there new born son Jesus. The snap of my holster being secured and a sigh of relief were the only sounds to be heard. Although the temperature was cold I felt warmth in knowing that even though shrouded in fog, the nativity scene, the symbol of faith for millions was present. It was impressive and means even more now then ever before. The fog descends on us all, believers and non believers as well as others like me who are somewhere in between. People like me are looked down upon by many who say you must make a decision and commit to a specific church or religion. I openly disagree, with the understanding that I will stand with you and protect the doors of your place of worship from attack by those who disagree with you’re beliefs.
I will stand with those who are willing to knock the chisel from the hands of those who would see the symbols of religions removed from the stones which mark the graves of our beloved veterans. I grieve with the mother of the fallen soldier who chooses protest as a way of stating her feelings. Although I am not in total agreement, she has earned the right. I stand with and support those who are willing to take on and destroy others who will see us all dead in the name of a religion they have perverted and soiled by killing innocent men women and children. What is responsible for the fog that blinds these people? What is responsible for the fog that blinds the leaders of nations and prevents them from making the best possible decisions and choices?
If you are inclined to pray, perhaps I could persuade you to ask for the lifting of the fog that seems to have blinded us all. God bless!


Randy J. Cole