I have nearly completed what I thought would be the post for today, when I got word from a friend that his grandson had been injured in Afghanistan. He is in stable condition, but has lost both legs below the knee, part of a hand, and may lose his arm. There has been no word yet on when this occurred. It could have been yesterday or several days ago.

Jeffrey (I may not even be spelling it right) is a Marine, despite his Grandfather telling him to join the Navy, like his father was. He had served a tour in Afghanistan already, and was not supposed to go back, but someone else died and he was called to go. Before he left he got married. Also before he left he started a prayer group with other Marines in his unit.

As the leader of a team investigating IEDs, he went in first and presumably that is why his injuries are so severe. I have never met Jeffrey, but I know his Grandfather well, and I know his type well also. It was his job to do, it was his mission. By going in first he may well have saved someone with less experience as the may well have died instead of getting out with severe injuries.

This post really is about saying why I didn't post something today. It isn't a post to drill up support for getting our troops home, though I am in favor of that once it is safe and we know the country won't collapse behind them. It also is not about getting support to end the war now. As a disabled vet I wholly support our troops, especially Jeffrey. I am ashamed to call myself a disabled vet compared to those like Jeffrey. My injuries were sustained in the course of a short career served completely stateside. Despite volunteers from my unit being deployed multiple times, and the unit itself being deployed once, I never went. Most would think this lucky or good, but I, like I suppose Jeffrey to be, was ready to go and would have gone in a heartbeat if only they had needed me.

Some may take this to be an ignored prayer, or a sign of God not caring. Instead, I take this as God choosing to use Jeffrey in a way that I do not yet understand. My posts have not yet generated a lot of comments, and it is probably a bad thing to say that I will delete comments. Especially since there are some comments that I have thought very seriously about deleting. However, if anyone comments to this post and says anything against the military or its mission I will not allow it to remain.

Tomorrow the regular blog from the Hole on the End of the Bible Belt will return. Until then, I hope that everyone takes a minute to consider our troops, those deployed, those injured, those killed, and those that will come home changed. Remember them, kiss your own children, or parents. Thank a vet, whether serving or having served. Pray for them and pray for God's will, purpose, and Providence to shine forth.

Update late Wednesday: I did spell Jeffrey correct. He has lost both legs below the knee and some fingers. He must be made stable then he will be transported to Germany. If he continues to stablize, he will be transported to Bethesda Naval Hospital in Maryland. Remember his family also, he has a wife. They were married just before he shipped out.

Shrapnel Lands at Home (byrdmouse.com)
Blast Waves (byrdmouse.com)

Not long ago, I was involved in a regular Thursday Morning Men's Prayer Group. We met each Thursday at 6:30 and after about a half hour of prayer walked across the street to eat a biscuit. I still maintain that there is something scriptural, and sometimes ephiphany-revealing (is ephiphanical a word?) about eating together. For just one example see Luke 24:30. It became to me more important than Sunday School, and that was the hour that my preacher still calls the most important hour of the day. I started attending after telling my employer I would be late on Thursday mornings. Then I changed jobs, twice, and told my boss after accepting the job, "By the way, I'll be late on Thursday mornings." It was not a question, it was a statement.

About 5 years ago my marriage hit the roughest patch it ever has. We were fighting each other as much as ourselves. Or maybe it was just me. I moved into an apartment closer to where I worked, which was also about 40 miles from home and church. At this time I stopped attending the prayer group. Eventually, I found myself to be so miserable without my beloved Ginger that we reconciled and have had a wonderful marriage since. We have had a third child, now 6 months old, named Faith. I could not have picked a more appropriate name, though I did try. Scarlett Grace was the name I tried for because it is by the blood of Jesus I have received grace. In less than 3 months I will have been married for over half my life, yet I can barely remember a life without Ginger. This despite my anal retentive memory.

After the incident I did return to the prayer group. My current job is such that it doesn't allow a late arrival on Thursdays, yet, but I miss the men and the fellowship. Just this past Sunday I found out that the men of the group had agreed to pray for me during that time I was away. Not only on Thursday mornings, but whenever they thought of me. They prayed that I would be so miserable without my family that I would wake up and come to my senses.

Oftentimes we pray without knowing if it will do any good. Other times we don't pray and still get blessed. Most of the time when I pray the answer I receive looks nothing like the prayer I asked, but fills the prayer request better than I could have ever imagined. For most of my life I have considered myself a poster boy for answered prayers. So much so that I am afraid it sounds like I'm bragging about it at times. God answers prayers for you, whether you prayed them or not, whether you knew they were being prayed or not. Especially when you least expect it.

The Hole on the End of the Bible Belt