Paul Harvey in one of his many radio broadcasts tells how Eskimos kill wolves. Taking an extremely sharp knife an Eskimo will coat the knife in fresh animal blood. He will then let that blood freeze and then coat it again in blood and then let that layer of blood freeze. He will add layer upon layer of blood allowing each separate layer to freeze until the blade of the knife is completely covered in a thick coating of blood.
In the dark of night, the Eskimo then anchors the knife blade up. The wolf with his keen sense of smell is led to the blood baited knife and will lick the flesh blood. Driven by the taste, he will begin to feverishly lick the frozen blood down to the razor sharp edge of the knife. At some point the razor sharp edge of the knife begins producing very warm blood for the wolf to lap and the satiated craving for blood masks the tell-tale sting of the knife’s edge. Come the light of day the Eskimo will have very little trouble following the bloody trail that leads to the dead-dying wolf.
How tragic it is that daily we are consumed by that which in the end brings us to death.
When I look back over my life and I consider those “dark of night” moments and the many pleasure-baited knives I’ve licked on, it’s a wonder the Eskimo of “just-deserts” and “consequences” did not find me dead. Yet, I’m here, sitting in my office writing and sharing and pouring out of my heart. My sincerest prayer is that these words reach the eye of the one intended.
But for the grace of God.
As always, until we can meet again … Have A Great Day!