Holding My Breath
When I woke this morning my wife, who is always up long before I begin to stir, told me that an explosion at a U.S. military base in Mosul had killed and/or injured over 50 soldiers.
Two of my church elders are currently stationed in Mosul. One is due to leave in just eight days. I have to confess that my heart skipped a beat as I quickly offered a silent prayer for the soldiers and their families. What I didn't know was whether there were now two new widows and three children without fathers in my congregation.
As it turned out both men are assigned to a base adjacent to the one hit by the mortar (or rocket) yesterday. They had already contacted their wives and said they were OK.
A base chaplain who blogs has written up his experience providing spiritual support among the dead, dying, wounded, traumatized and those providing medical care. You can read it here. It reads like a war novel from WW II or a real-life episode of M.A.S.H. but without the humor...well, there are one or two bits of humor. Finding any humor at all amidst the carnage is a real gift of grace. As T.S. Elliot once wrote, "Human kind cannot stand very much reality."
I am glad that there are chaplains tending to the needs of the troops. I know that my two elders in Mosul have been grateful for them, too. One chaplain in Mosul has already been killed this past year. The chaplain with the blog ended his entry with these words,
"The last count was 25 dead, and around 45 wounded. Nevertheless, our cause is just and God is in control even when the crap is a yard deep. I'm where God wants me and wouldn't change that for anything, even if it means death. After all, "to die is gain."
I have prayed often today for those whose hearts skipped a beat, for those who held their breaths and for those whose hearts and breath came to a complete and final halt yesterday in that mess tent in Mosul.
Two of my church elders are currently stationed in Mosul. One is due to leave in just eight days. I have to confess that my heart skipped a beat as I quickly offered a silent prayer for the soldiers and their families. What I didn't know was whether there were now two new widows and three children without fathers in my congregation.
As it turned out both men are assigned to a base adjacent to the one hit by the mortar (or rocket) yesterday. They had already contacted their wives and said they were OK.
A base chaplain who blogs has written up his experience providing spiritual support among the dead, dying, wounded, traumatized and those providing medical care. You can read it here. It reads like a war novel from WW II or a real-life episode of M.A.S.H. but without the humor...well, there are one or two bits of humor. Finding any humor at all amidst the carnage is a real gift of grace. As T.S. Elliot once wrote, "Human kind cannot stand very much reality."
I am glad that there are chaplains tending to the needs of the troops. I know that my two elders in Mosul have been grateful for them, too. One chaplain in Mosul has already been killed this past year. The chaplain with the blog ended his entry with these words,
"The last count was 25 dead, and around 45 wounded. Nevertheless, our cause is just and God is in control even when the crap is a yard deep. I'm where God wants me and wouldn't change that for anything, even if it means death. After all, "to die is gain."
I have prayed often today for those whose hearts skipped a beat, for those who held their breaths and for those whose hearts and breath came to a complete and final halt yesterday in that mess tent in Mosul.
posted by Bird of Paradise at 11:28 PM
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