Vision Healing the Wounds of War

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Warrior Writings

THE COMMANDER by Mary Church (9-16-07)

Profound pain crashing to the floor,
A wail rising up, opening slowly
Like forever.
Sweating tears and blood, then crying:
“Oh forgive me, Brothers,
I tried to keep my head up, oh I tried.”
Falling forward with agonized memories,
Head bowed low,
Where there used to be hair, hardly anything there
Except a dozen hands ---
Touching, healing, praying, and feathering
Breezes to waft soft succor.
Holy water, blessed by many,
Pouring on the bareness of his skull,
Dripping into the finer bones and sinus channels
To clear out the tears.
Tears for tears.
Grace – a gift that lifts him up.
At long last
He feels forgiven
And can pass the sorrow forward -- to Iraq.

Terry was someone who helped me in Wheaton by listening to my story during lunch one day and validating it simply by the listening.  He looked you right in the eye, never wavering, but cocking his head gently, he engaged you with his gaze, encouraged you to talk and get it all out, and suggested ways for further healing.  He was a true leader.  And he fell apart at the end.  After everyone was helped, this great man fell to the floor and wept, cried out, and through his pain gathered us all to his side.  We laid hands upon him, we ministered in many ways, and slowly, ever so slowly, he recovered and began to heal.  A testimony to the power of love --- given and received.