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September 13, 2003 |
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Letter to the Editor: (Thank you for your faithful reporting) |
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After my husband and I got up late last night and read McCarthy Annie from one of our close neighbors (and I mean close not in distance, but in selfless desire to hold out a true hand of love and to stand beside us in the face of trial uplifting truth only), our hearts were so touched; first in awe how someone could so clearly and with a precise accuracy, describe our family. Then reading on we were moved to severe laughter at the ridiculousness of such prideful men to spend all their time acting |
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like little boys playing army men protecting top secret information in our front yard. |
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When my family and I left the “Blood of Christ Mt.” and headed North to Alaska on our Pilgrimage as strangers to a new frontier, we appeared as an old wagon train headed to untouched ground in virgin days of this country when ground was free and wild. |
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We loaded up our old trucks– a ‘41 Chevy flatbed (our old honeymoon wagon in which my oldest son was born), our ‘44 Chevy and ‘51 6x6 (which included the kitchen sink) and a cute little tour bus for all the extras. We headed north to find that special spot that God had ordained for this family to live and wait for our Lord’s return. A place where we could continue to live a quiet life and work with our hands going about our daily business raising our children in a subsistence lifestyle that we all knew so instinctively. |
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And here we are, at our “little piece of heaven on earth,” where we intend, Lord willing, to remain. Yes, it’s been a hard road, but all Pilgrims everywhere understand the road we travel on. |
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Now, nestled in these quiet majestic masterpieces of God’s hand, we are more than busy – making bread, picking vegetables from the garden, changing diapers, preparing for a cold winter; the list is endless and YET we sit amidst a pile of paperwork – red tape – my FAX machine keeps me busier than my old wringer washer. (I think I’ll send those tree-hugging NPS a bill for the paper they wasted, not to mention the trees). We barely have time to tell a bedtime story or chop enough wood to bake that bread that’s risen ten times today. And just what will they dream up next... |
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Yes, my husband and I cried at the very last part, it was all too true, they are working us over. They (NPS) have encroached upon our lives, upon our children and our beliefs. They intend to bring their hell into this little piece of heaven, but these Hillbillies aren’t budging and we stand in faith. |
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Thank you for your prayers, |
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Mama Country Rose |