Use Bricks.

I cried today. 

I was reading The Three Little Pigs to Eve, and I literally cried.

(You can laugh at me, I've already accepted my weirdness.)

There is just something about the story that I love.

This story teaches a timeless message of warning.

As I held my sweet baby in my arms I felt my mother soul hoping she heard-- build a strong, safe home little pig.

Build with bricks.

In my paperback, golden book version, the wolf EATS the straw and twig pigs.  Aside from the building, instrument playing and chiny-chin-chinning, this feels more real to me.  I really hate classics that are made politically correct with no consequences and wide-spread happily ever after.  Sometimes, pigs get eaten and it's sad.  (Although, as an oldest sister, I do love the "and they all ran to their brother's house for wolf stew" version too.)

I couldn't help but wonder if the first two pigs would have built their houses out of bricks if they knew where to find them.

Did they choose straw and sticks because they were lazy, because they were deceived by tricky salesman, or because they really wanted houses that wouldn't protect them?  

All three pigs came from the same supposedly safe home.    Did their mother explain to them WHY she built their home strong?  Did she send them out the door to earn their fortune armed with knowledge?  I don't want to be a 1/3 mom.  That poor mother pig.

I believe in good and I believe in evil.  I believe that we must build strong homes to protect our families.  We must build and we must teach our children why we are building.  Building a strong home takes work and effort and time.  Building a strong home requires that you spend your money on materials that strengthen and protect.  We build because we know there is a wolf and he wants to eat us.  We know the wolf because he has knocked on our door.  He will knock on their door also!

I do not live my life in fear.  Because I know and I am spending my days building a home of bricks.  It is interesting to me that the first two pigs are dancing happily up until the point that there is a knock at their door.

Today, we are not allowed to talk about wolves.  We pretend they are not there so we don't offend anyone in straw or twig houses.  

All around me, people I love are suffering.  Wolves of addiction, promiscuity, and irresponsibility are eating good little pigs. Even as their friends and family members are being eaten, they refuse to see how the wolf got in.  Sometimes as they are telling me the tragic stories I want to shout-- it's the STRAW!!!  It's not safe!!!

People are still buying straw!  

Stop!!  If you want to protect your families you need THICK walls-- invest!!!  Cleave to that which is SAFEST.

I want my house built of brick AND I want a stew boiling in my fireplace to catch the wolf in his sneaky spots.

I want to be able to have a home where my doors are open.  I want to say, "Run here if your house has blown down."  I want my little pigs to have a safe home to run to when they are getting huffed and puffed.  I cannot ignore or run away from the wolves around us, but I am a brick house little pig.

"Little Pig, Little Pig let me come in."

"Not by the hair on our chiney-chin-chin."

"Then I'll huff and I'll puff, and I'll blow your house in."

So, the wolf huffed, and he puffed, and he huffed, and he puffed again and again.  But he could not blow the house in!

The wolf got mad.  "Little pig, little pig, I will catch you anyhow.  I am going to climb up on your roof [and come in your Internet] and eat you up."

"Come down," said the little pig.  "Hurry up!"

The wolf came down the chimney and fell right into a pot of water boiling over the fire.

The little pig quickly popped the cover over the pot- and that was the end of [one] wicked wolf!

And the third little pig lived happily ever after in his house of bricks.