Still thinking about shattered dreams.  If I could ask you about your dreams would you choose option one, option two, or option three? Dreams fulfilled?  Dreams unfulfilled?  Dreams in a holding tank, or washed out to sea...as in Shattered?  Where do your dreams land?  My guess is you are like most of us.  At some point, you could probably check off each of those options about your dreams.  Some dreams may have been fulfilled or are being fulfilled.  Perhaps you are actually “living the dream.”  I’m sure some of your dreams have not panned out as you envisioned or expected.   Perhaps they are in a holding tank, and you are hoping the blender of life will continue to work its magic on what you perceive as a more realistic version of a fulfilled dream.  Then there is one more option.  Perhaps your dream did wash out to sea, and is no longer on the horizon but is now at the bottom of the ocean, because life happens, and dreams shatter!  Perhaps you are experiencing a different version of broken.  Perhaps someone is responsible.  Perhaps someone threw it on the concrete and it shattered into a million pieces, right before your eyes, taking your heart with it. Any shattered dream has the potential to shatter hearts, clear thinking and motivation for living right along with it. Where are you?  Shattered dreams suck the life out of us; leave us with an unbearable pain in the center of our hearts that just won’t go away, and threatens to be our undoing.  The longer the dream remains unfulfilled, it weighs us down like a “box of rocks” that seems to get heavier and heavier as time goes on with no hope of any relief.  It is here that hopelessness could become a constant companion.  When this happens…what do, we do?

Journey of My heart…that’s the Blog name because life is a journey, and it’s my heart that rides the roller coaster of life.    I also suggested that I am learning to walk on water in a difficult storm, with lots of winds, waves, and a boat that is about to sink. 
 
As I promised:  Here’s my Water-Walking adventure for 2016.

I think it is safe to say, It is all out of the bag now.  Christmas is over and organizing our survival kit for 2017 is at the top of our list.  Here’s my question…Is it appropriate to reflect on dreams in January?  I think so.  Since we just celebrated the culmination of the Greatest of all Dreams that originated in God’s heart, executed by Jesus, the Son, and sustained by the Holy Spirit.  We get to live in the abundance of the Spirit in the here and now because of the coming of God, Immanuel, Jesus with us…God came in flesh to rescue us from the clutches of Satan and the burden of trying to figure life out on our own.  We are living the Dream! So, what is your dream?  What are you praying for…longing for?  For what does your heart ache?

Dreams are full of hope and hope is what keeps us going when our world turns upside down?  You’re the Dreamer…the dream belongs to you.  Suddenly you find yourself face to face with a dream crusher, whatever form that takes.  Individual? Circumstantial?  Life?  God?  When life’s door bursts, open and hell rushes in to steal your dream…what to do when your world, turns against you?  A dream worthy of dreaming is a dream that has the potential to be pulverized into fine powder, blown away by a deep sigh of pain, and/or washed away by the torrent of tears that flood the soul taking any vestige of lingering hope, and leaving you with empty hands! And more importantly, a broken and bleeding heart.  How do you forgive the one who slams your dream to the ground, and stomps on it, whether intentionally or not?  What do you do when your dream goes up in smoke, and disintegrates right before your eyes?  You know it has been in the throes of death for a while, as you struggle to do many different resuscitation efforts (much like Sarah and Abraham).  Unwilling to acknowledge these death throes you dragged it around until the weight was more than you could carry.  It finally breathed its last and you rolled over with your heart in your stomach acknowledging…It’s Gone!    Your dream ​succumbed to death, taking a part of you with it. Hopelessness rises up within you, passion for life dies, heart shatters, lights go out, and depression moves in.  There is a palpable numbness about picking your head up off the pillow, and putting one foot in front of the other each day.  How does one keep from succumbing to the numbness in the deepest part of our being? Or perhaps you were caught suddenly in a tsunami, the doors of your life burst open and your dream suddenly disintegrated right before your eyes.  In either case, you have to deal with a crushed, and shattered dream that has suddenly gone up in smoke, right before your very eyes.

Tourists are always in a hurry, often impatient for results and not always sure of where they are going.
Pilgrims on the other hand are patient and set their sights on an ultimate goal.
 
Tourists visit only the attractive locations and do so only when convenient.
Pilgrims understand that not everything in life is attractive or convenient.
 
Tourists want everything to be very comfortable.
Pilgrims know there will be many difficult moments and accepts them as part of their life style.

Be sure and click the "read more" button.

…and so are you…how often do we really take the time to pay attention to what we have at the great expense of others that went before us?  Of course, we must acknowledge Jesus first and foremost.
 
“The bravest are surely those who have the clearest vision of what is before them, glory and danger alike, and yet notwithstanding, go out to meet it.”—Thucydides
 
I recall my heritage and the journey of all of those brave men and women willing to step out and follow a dream for something better than what they had.  We owe those that were brave enough to get on a boat, hardly as long as a tennis court, and set sail when, as far as your eye could see, was water.

But if any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask of God, who gives to all generously and without reproach, and it will be given to him.
6 But he must ask in faith without any doubting, for the one who doubts is like the surf of the sea, driven and tossed by the wind.
7 For that man ought not to expect that he will receive anything from the Lord,
8 being a double-minded man, unstable in all his ways. James 1:5-8
 
I have a word picture for you, but first let me explain something.  This scripture I have read countless of times.  When we face various trials, James tells us that if we lack wisdom ask, and ask in faith not doubting, for if we doubt we are tossed about like the surf of the sea…being a double minded man unstable in all our ways.
 
I have always looked at that scripture as when we ask for anything…and nearly all of the commentaries I read address this verse the same way… when we ask God for anything. I put it in the context with all the other scripture about asking in faith.   However, as I read it recently I noted that James starts the chapter giving us a specific directions on how to respond to our trials.  He instructs us to consider it pure joy when we encounter various trials, for we know the specific trial God allows will be the very thing that will produce endurance, and endurance in turn will produce in us a maturity and completeness, and we will be lacking in nothing. 
 
Then James explains that if we lack wisdom we should ask God to give us wisdom to know how to respond to this trial.  In addition, the next verse says that we must ask in faith.  Suddenly, I’m looking at this completely different now.  The instruction to ask in faith without wavering is directly connected to our asking for wisdom and believe that God will give wisdom if we do not doubt. 
 
James goes on to say that, our doubting causes us to be like the surf of the sea driven and tossed by the wind and unstable.  So, here’s my word picture.
 

September 7, 2006 journal entry:
Sometimes life is just plain difficult.  This is a journal entry shortly after my husband passed.  Perhaps you've lost a loved one and can relate.

Subject: The pearls

The cheerful little girl with bouncy golden curls was almost five. Waiting with her mother at the checkout stand, she saw them, a circle of glistening white pearls in a pink foil box “Oh mommy please, Mommy. Can I have them? Please, Mommy, please?”


Quickly the mother checked the back of the little foil box and then looked back into the pleading blue eyes of her little girl’s upturned face.

“A dollar ninety-five. That’s almost $2.00. If you really want them, I’ll think of some extra chores for you and in no time you can save enough money to buy them for yourself. Your birthday’s only a week away and you might get another crisp dollar bill from Grandma.”

As soon as Jenny got home, she emptied her penny bank and counted out 17 pennies. After dinner, she did more than her share of chores and she went to the neighbor and asked if she could pick dandelions for ten cents. On her birthday, Grandma did give her another new dollar bill and at last she had enough money to buy the necklace.

Jenny loved her pearls. They made her feel dressed up and grown up. She wore them everywhere, Sunday school, kindergarten, even to bed. The only time she took them off was when she went swimming or had a bubble bath. Mother said if they got wet, they might turn her neck green.  That’s because they are counterfeit.  Keep that in mind.

Jenny had a very loving daddy and every night when she was ready for bed, he would stop whatever he was doing and come upstairs to read her a story.

One night as he finished the story, he asked Jenny, “Do you love me?”
“Oh yes, daddy. You know that I love you.”

“Then give me your pearls.”
“Oh, daddy, not my pearls. But you can have Princess, the white horse from my collection, the one with the pink tail. Remember, daddy? The one you gave me. She’s my very favorite.”
“That’s okay, Honey, daddy loves you. Good night.” And he brushed her cheek with a kiss.

About a week later, after the story time, Jenny’s daddy asked again, “Do you love me?”

“Daddy, you know I love you.”
“Give me your pearls.”

“Oh Daddy, not my pearls. But you can have my baby doll. The brand new one I got for my birthday. She is beautiful and you can have the yellow blanket that matches her sleeper.”
 "That’s okay. Sleep well. God bless you, little one. Daddy loves you.“

And as always, he brushed her cheek with a gentle kiss.

A few nights later when her daddy came in, Jenny was sitting on her bed with her legs crossed Indian style.

As he came close, he noticed her chin was trembling and one silent tear rolled down her cheek. "What is it, Jenny? What’s the matter?”
Jenny didn’t say anything but lifted her little hand up to her daddy. And when she opened it, there was her little pearl necklace.  With a little quiver, she finally said, “Here, daddy; this is for you.”

With tears gathering in his own eyes, Jenny’s daddy reached out with one hand to take the dime store necklace, and with the other hand he reached into his pocket and pulled out a blue velvet case with a strand of genuine pearls and gave them to Jenny.
He had them all the time. He was just waiting for her to give up the dime-store stuff so he could give her the genuine treasure.  No more counterfeit.

So it is, with our Heavenly Father. He is waiting for us to give up the cheap things in our lives so that he can give us beautiful treasures.  Poor little Jenny was afraid she would lose out by giving up something that she was familiar with.  The fear of letting go kept her from getting the real blessing from her daddy.

Isn’t God good? Are you holding onto things that God wants you to let go of so he can bless you with his own presence and something far greater than what you are refusing to let go of. 

Are you holding on to harmful or unnecessary partners, relationships, habits and activities, beliefs that you have come so attached to that it seems impossible to let go? Sometimes it is so hard to see what is in the other hand but do believe this one thing.

God will never take away something without giving you something of far greater value and much better in its place.
Will you trust him?

I want to…Help me Lord.

Charles Swindoll spoke on Revelation and was teaching on the Church of Philadelphia.  He stated that there is a world of opportunity out there.  I know that is true. I believe it.  But my heart hurts so badly.  He stated that too often, we sit in front of a closed door, crying for what should have been, mourning our dream gone sour, or a dream that has dried up and blown into the wind, for so long that we fail to get in on the opportunities in front of us because we are mourning at the closed door.  God has a plan and usually the closed door is the means by which he is trying to bring us to himself.  He wants to give us the blessing, but we can’t receive it because we are sitting at the closed door rather than looking in anticipation at the door of opportunities.  I am guilty as charged God. I admit it.  I have been sitting here crying and mourning my husband’s absence.  I miss him so terribly.  I feel like I have a heavy weight attached to my heart and it isn’t getting any better; what’s left of my heart anyway.  I think the stick of dynamite that went off, just blew my heart to bits. There is very little still intact.  Only enough to keep blood pumping through my veins for physical life.  The rest is lying down inside my gut, bleeding profusely. My life’s blood dripping from the part that is still attached…Will the pain ever end? Death? I’m sad that this thought even enters my mind.  Of course it is only a thought, but I get how Satan interjects that thought and then people go through with it, just to ease the pain.

 Here is the picture God gave me in my mind’s eye.  I remember watching a documentary, or a movie where someone is locked up in prison.  The metal door closing, sliding shut, and you can hear it lock into place as it slams shut…an awful sound.  That is the sound I hear.  The difference is that this door is solid metal…there are no bars…and it is slammed shut….then silence.  You, Babe, are on one side of the door, and I’m on the other.  We are so close, but so far away and I can’t reach you.  I know you are there, but I can’t touch you, see you, feel you….It is like that veil we are told about…where we can only see on this side of the veil, and we will have to wait to see what is on the other side…but right now…even though the metal door is thick, it seems so thin, because I know you are there, just on the other side…but at the same time, so thick, because I can’t touch it, see through it, or feel your presence here.  God help me!  I miss him…will the pain ever go away?

 I have already admitted my selfishness.  Seems like there is always a new reservoir of selfishness sitting in the bottom of my heart waiting to direct my path away from where I should be or what I should be focused on.   I admit that I have been selfish because I have been longing to go home to be with my Baby.  I long for that more than I long for going home to be with Jesus.  And yet I know that if I were to go home tonight, I would be more thrilled to be in the presence of Jesus that I would want to see Him before I saw my Baby.  That is what scripture tells me anyway.  So, I’m working on me and I’m allowing God to move me to the door of opportunities instead of crying at the door that is slammed shut.  Or picture it this way…you hold on to something…it’s inside your doubled up fist…squeezed shut…God wants to give you something better, but he can’t put anything in your hand because your fist is closed up and you are holding on so tight to the “old” that he cannot give you the “new.”

           I love you Babe,
God, help me grow up into what you want me to be…to do….I can’t…
God, help me go where you are sending….I can’t…
I’ll get there, but it will be you moving me. Help me! Please!  I want to move forward…I want to let go of what was, so I can embrace what is.  I want to move forward taking your memory with me.  I want to.  God will you move me, move me forward, please.
Journal entry Sept 7, 2006

 
“The bravest are surely those who have the clearest vision of what is before them, glory and danger alike, and yet notwithstanding, go out to meet it.”  — Thucydides
 
This is the day we stop, take a deep breath and acknowledge all those who have sacrificed in untold ways so we might enjoy the freedoms they purchased by their blood.  Some gave up everything…totally and completely… everything.  Some sacrificed life, as they knew it, willing to answer the call, knowing the dangers they faced, but putting those fears aside to serve and preserve our great nation and our freedoms.  They paid a debt we can never repay.  We must pledge to remember, and pledge to thank them.

Maturity is the goal for each of us from infancy to adulthood, but growing up to adult stature is not a guarantee of maturity.  We all begin our life dependent. 

• Dependence says, “I need you.”  It’s the paradigm of “you.”  You take care of me; you come through for me.  You didn’t come through for me; I blame you for this problem.  
• The next level is independence.  It’s the paradigm of “I.”  I can do this, I don’t need you, I’m responsible; I’m self-reliant.  I don’t need anyone. 
• On the other hand, interdependence is a healthy combination of the two.  It is a paradigm of “we.”  Interdependence is a realization that life works better when we are involved in healthy relationships with others.  Interdependence says we can do this, we can cooperate, and we can combine our talents and abilities and create something greater together than we could alone. 

 
God created us to live in community.  The very first thing God pronounced as not good is in Gen. 2:18 when He stated, “It is not good for man to be alone;” therefore He never intended for us to do life alone.  God created us in love, for love and to be loved.  We can blame our lineage, parents, grandparents, or our environment at any given moment…a spouse, a boss, a coworker, children, teenagers, health, financial issues…these are responsible for my situation and my misery.  “If it wasn’t for this, that, or them…things would be just fine!”
 

 
Christmas was especially difficult this year.  I am in mourning again as I mourn the loss of my dearest and oldest friend. She passed this last year. I’ve known this lady for 45 years.  I met her shortly after I met my husband.  He adored her and I learned to love her as well.  Her name is Janette and she is my husband’s mother.  There is a bond between us that cannot be described with words.  I’ve tried, and there are none that can describe the bond we had.  It’s funny; we had nothing in common really, except that she and I loved the same man, her son…my husband. 

She taught me so much.  I can’t imagine what it would have been like to get a telegram from the U.S. government stating your son is wounded, possibly near death,  describing his injuries, with him being thousands of miles away on the other side of the world and her being at the mercy of the government to keep her informed. I can’t imagine. 

I remember one day after we were married, Gene and I had some sort of stupid argument.  His heart was so broken and wounded from all that he had experienced in Viet Nam that he had encapsulated his heart in a bubble unconsciously vowing that no one would ever hurt him again.  Thus, I was not in his inner circle.  Mom knew this.  One day we were standing outside in her driveway and she said, “Carol, just want you to know, Tunny (his family nickname) loves you, he just doesn’t want you to know that!”   What? That seemed so foreign to me, but as years went on, I understood.  He just couldn’t open his heart again and be vulnerable for fear of being hurt...again. Losing hurts too badly.  She realized that and she encouraged me that he really did care about me, he was just unable to  let me inside his bubble.  It took a while but he did open his heart and we forged a love that was strong even though Satan attempted to destroy our love and us…by the grace of God, we overcame.  Thank you Jesus.
 
I remember the day I started calling her mom.  I didn’t ask her if I could…perhaps I should have.  It felt a little awkward at first, but she didn’t hesitate to respond, and she was “Mom” from that day forward. 
 
But this day we laid her to rest, March 13, 2015.  I was fortunate to have several women in my life besides my own mother.  I was very close to my paternal grandmother, Mother, we called her.  She babysat for us while my parents worked, and they worked a lot.  She never showed favorites, but we did have that kind of relationship.  I shared a bedroom with her after she moved in with us.  Those were special times.  When I would spend the night with her as a child we lay in bed as long as I could stay awake and she would tell me Bible stories.  So we had lots of talks in the dark after the lights were out.  She made an unbelievable impression on my heart.  She contracted shingles in her eyes and couldn’t read her Bible any longer.  She wanted us girls to read to her.  I did for a long time, and then I got busy with other things that would distract a 15 year old.  Then when she passed, I really felt guilty for not taking the time to be with her.  I remember the heavy guilt I experienced as I longed for her and as I got older, I remember saying, “Wow! I wish I could have just one more conversation with her. 
 
I also was fortunate enough to have a close relationship with my maternal grandmother as well. I called her Ma-Maw.  We lived with her for awhile, but before that, I spent the summer of my 12th year with her. I had a two year old sister and since my mother worked, I was going to be responsible for her for the entire summer.  My maternal grandmother didn’t want me to have that responsibility, so she had my parents bring me and my two year old sister down to spend the summer with her.  It was that summer that God spoke to me and impressed on my heart to be a counselor.
 
Then there was Gene’s mom.  I like to think I learned from my mistake with my paternal grandmother.  So, after Gene passed, I made a point to take care of Mom the way I think he would have wanted me to.  But most importantly, I made time to go see her frequently.  I would drive down on a Saturday or Sunday afternoon and spend two or three hours just sitting with her and talking. We could talk for hours about any and everything:  life, politics, bible, Jesus, God, and whatever else was going on in our world.  We didn’t always see eye to eye on everything, but we respected one another  in our difference of opinions. 
 
So, I find myself missing her terribly.  I hear myself saying….”I wish I had just one more conversation with her.”  The difference is this time  it is said without regret…only a longing to spend one more long, lazy afternoon with her sharing life together; that woman I bonded with, probably stronger than my own mother, the bond that was forged by loving the same man.
 
What else do I have to say?  Time is short and this may be the only day you will have to tell your loved ones that you love them and spend a few minutes with them.  Take the opportunity.  Grief will scream at you when you lose that special one, but it will scream much louder if there is guilt associated with it.  Make the most of your moments.  Forget those petty disagreements that really don’t amount to anything and it isn’t worth the separation of a broken relationship.  Love one another and take the time to say it…frequently. Do those things that convey that love. That’s what Jesus gave his life for.  That’s why his blood was shed…to cover the pain and hurt of a broken relationship.  He is in the restoration business.  Be intentional and seize the moment…when it is gone, it can never be recaptured. 
God bless you as you choose life.
 
 
 

It is an interesting journey
One filled with ups and downs
One filled with desire and longing
One filled with brokenness and pain
One filled with broken, and shattered dreams and expectations
My heart longs for the fulfillment of my dream
My desire
My longing 
Longing to be loved
Longing to be touched deeply
Longing to be
All that I was meant to be
When my desire awakens and my heart reaches out for it
It seems to be just beyond my reach…always
It is out there
Out there somewhere
Somewhere…Somewhere, where I cannot reach
It is as if I’m grasping air
My heart aches and my tears fall and my anxiety rises
I twist and turn and think and groan
My mind is torn and goes up and down back and forth
Attempting to figure out how I can get what my longing heart desires…
My dream
I play chess every day, all day
I manipulate and maneuver everything that is manipuable, or maneuverable!
I figure and I constantly rearrange and try to figure this or that.
I cry and fret, and hurt, and question why, how, and what next…Until I am exhausted. 
They say chess players go crazy…
I discover I cannot make anything happen and I’m killing myself
Dying a slow death from the inside out…starving…choking…gasping for air.
Something happens.  I make a move… I step into a forbidden area to achieve my heart’s desire, my goal.
I sit back and feel smug that I have now accomplished a maneuver, I played chess well today…
Or so I thought.
The event comes back to haunt me.
I was called out
God put his finger in my chest and said “You did this!”  Then I realize the reality of my decision.  It isn’t my action that was so wrong…although it was
It was much more the condition of my heart.
I just became “Sarah.”
We all wonder how could Sarah do what she did?
How could she give Abraham her hand maiden to produce a child God said she would have?
Just look in the mirror Dear.  You did it.  You not only did it, you have done it numerous times before…
You just never saw it for what it really was…manipulation,
Maneuvering life, playing chess, and most of all not trusting God.  You think that you can move that mountain?  Think again.  You don’t move the mountain…God does.
Desire. Desire drives us and when we don’t get our desire we fall on our face and kick, scream and cry at God for his lack of attention to us.
With enough blame to sink a ship!
And God will continue to let me kick and scream until I kick and scream myself to the point of exhaustion. 
Now God is able to speak because maybe, just maybe, I’m quiet enough to listen.
Enter God…
He asks… “Are you done?” 
God's question slaps me in the face with my actions
Sort of like when he asked Adam, "Where are you?"
With my unbelief
With my chess playing manipulating mentality
With my lack of trust
Suddenly I am thrown backwards.  Flat on my back…with no place to look but upward.
Suddenly I sense something I’ve not felt before!
And I find myself unplugged…unplugged from the situation and aware that I’m unplugged
What is this?  Strange indeed!
I’m unplugged.  I don’t care.  But I do care…But I don’t care.
I lay it down.  Lay my burdens down.  Suddenly I feel such a sense of release.
The air is going out of my striving heart!
I am no longer struggling, fearful…no longer striving!
I’m reminded again…be still!  Cease striving and know that God is God!
How often do I not cease the striving…how often am I really still?
Still long enough to hear what he wants to say to me
What he wants to do with me
What he wants to do in me…in my circumstances.
I release my hold, my grip on what I want. I release my hold, my grip on what I think I deserve, and what I believe should be.  I let go…I’m still standing in the same place, but I’m different.
My circumstances have not changed…there is still difficulty and frustration, but I’m changed.  God has taken my burden.  He took my burden because I opened my hand and let it go.  God won’t wrestle my burden out of my hands, but he will most assuredly take it when I give it to him.  Thank you Jesus.  I am reminded of Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego in the fiery furnace.  They were free.  They were no longer bound up…free and walking around with Jesus in the midst of the fire with them…free and walking around.  Jesus took my burden.  Come to me all ye that are heavy laden and I will give you rest.  My yoke is easy and my burden is light.  Yes, indeed it is.  Let it go.  I give you my dream.  I release the hold I have on my dream...and I give it to you Dear God…take my burden and give me yours instead.
FREEDOM!  Thank you Jesus for setting me free.  Free from me. 
 
I long for more of you.  I long to feel your touch.  I long to hear your voice.  I long to be led by you.  Hallelujah…I long…I long for heaven.  Yes, indeed I do…but I know that you are in charge of that…and my family, so I put that longing on hold and I’ll wait until the time is right for me to leave.  I will be content.  I am content.  I sit in contentment.  I’m free in my desire to be who you called me to be.  No more Striving…
Thank you Jesus…You are indeed Lord.
And I am Yours....
 
September 15, 2015

Grief is loud
   Very loud
It only looks quiet
  Around others…
      As I hold it at bay
But grief is very loud
  It screams in my ears!
  It screams in my head!
  It screams in my heart!

My whole body is screaming
Every fiber of my being screams in grief
   Deep, agonizing, gut-wrenching grief
Grief is relentless
  Does it ever end?
If so, someone please tell me when.
I’m ready

Not ready to forget my love
But ready for the pain in my heart to stop
My heart is broken in half
It is blown apart
  Blood is gushing
I’m bleeding-out emotionally
Yes, Grief is loud
  Very, very loud
Even years later,
Sometimes, Grief is still very loud

Grief causes tears to fall
Grief causes my voice to scream
Grief causes my body to wrack in pain
Grief causes my brain to ask “Why?”
But grief lends no understanding
Grief brings confusion
   Sadness
   Frustration
   Anger
Grief is anything but quite!
Grief is loud
    Very loud
    Very, very loud
And Grief hurts
Did I tell you, Grief hurts?

  Oh yes…it does definitely hurt
Grief is loud
Is it possible to quite it?
  How can I?
Embrace the pain…
  Feel it….every fiber of it
Hold it…
   Experience it…
   Notice it…
And let God hold you
While you comfort the birth of this new baby
…Grief
Grief is loud…

The year was 1968, the month was December. Sgt. Greenberg was about 3 weeks short coming home from his second tour in Viet Nam. They had been in the field for a week to ten days on a Company size operation.  On December 1, the guys received their Thanksgiving meal in the field.  One of Sgt. Greenberg’s buddies from another platoon went back to get more milk when mortars and RPG’s (a rocket-propelled grenade known as rocket launcher; a shoulder-fired, anti-tank weapon system that fires rockets equipped with an explosive war head) started coming in all over them.  By the time it was over, there were 10 or 12 guys wounded and three are dead.                

Journal Entry: May 1979

Trials:

          What are trials? Trials are God’s vices of life.  A "stress test" if you will.  Have you ever had a stress test?  Do you ever feel like the very life is being squeezed out of you from the inside out?  True enough it is…squeezing your “life” out of you, that you might die to self. Scripture states that unless a seed falls to the ground and dies there can be no life.  So it is with us…we must die to our own ideas, our own way of doing things, old habits, patterns, and scripts we learned in our family of origin that we incorporated to keep us safe, or to find love…looking in all the wrong places.  Jesus says, “We must lose our life to find life so God can live His life through us.