I am not fully qualified to speak to the topic of war. I have never been to war, never held another persons life in my hands, never labored over a mortally wounded friend, never taken the life of my enemy, so I can understand how most folks might question my credentials on this subject and others might say "you know nothing at all of war". I would not argue with either.

 I speak tonight of my experiences and my experiences alone. In my opinion that should be sufficient to scare most folks, and if others who have been closer to the subject, or paid a higher price than I were to speak it should bring tears to any normal person's eyes.

 We hear the term "the cost of war" tossed around often. Most people when they use this term are referring to one of two things. They refer either to the cost in monetary terms, or the cost in human lives, and sometimes both. But there is a deeper cost to war, one which I hope to at least make you familiar with and perhaps cause you to pause and consider.

 Across the years it has been my honor to support many of the troops fighting in this war, and to become friends through social media with a plethora of different folks, all tied to the wars and to our troops. I count amongst those friends, to name a few types, Gold Star mothers and fathers, those who have lost a child in war, Gold Star wives, Gold Star children, brothers, sisters, aunts and uncles. I count amongst them also mothers who have a child incarcerated in prison, and wives whose husbands are incarcerated. Standing along side those are the Wounded, and their families, wives, mothers, fathers, sisters, and brothers. And last but by no means least are those who lost a loved one to tragedy, be it suicide, drug overdoes, and or alcohol related deaths, among that circle I also know, wives, and mothers and fathers, sisters and brothers. All of these people are part of the cost of war.

 Along side the fallen, the wounded, the lost ones are several more persons. The ruined marriages, relationships that just could not stand the test of multiple deployments. There are the hurt and shattered lives that are a result of these ruined marriages. Also there are the many children trying to do well in school while a parent stands in harms way, and beside them, the single parent, trying to hold it all together while their mate is deployed and at war.

 And there are the regular people, those waiting on someone they love, those trying to live a normal life and take care of normal business all the while worrying and praying for a loved one in harms way. In light of previous examples this seems rather easy, but even this takes a toil.

 All these things are part of the cost of war. The price we have paid, the price we are paying, and the price we will pay.

 I can speak personally regarding the toil taken upon a person when a child is deployed in harms way. I sent a son to war twice. Neither time was easy. While the child is deployed you become attached to your phone, it never leaves your side, you obsess over charging it and always ensuring it is ready, should you receive a call. You answer it no matter where you are, or what you are doing. You grab it and say HELLO in the middle of a church service, while headed for the door, you leave the shower covered in soap and shampoo in order to grab the ringing phone. You take it to the toilet with you. You run out of important meetings at work, meetings that you are holding..in order to answer that phone.

 You breathe a little when it's your kid on the other side, hearing his voice brings such relief. You want to cry, you want to grill him over things, to know if he is really okay, but you swallow all that, and try and stay calm and you just listen and support him. Your heart breaks into pieces when he informs you that he lost a brother, or that someone was wounded, but you stay strong for him, because you do not want to make this any harder for him. You want to keep him on that phone forever...but time is short and he is always so very tired.

 If you are like me, you stay as informed as you can on how things are going over there. On the days when you see that someone died the night before, there was a bombing, or there was a firefight that made the news, its in the area where he is...your heart stops, you fight against the fear, the fear that wants to paralyze you. You pray, sometimes on your face on the floor....but how does one pray in such a time? You pray Lord please keep him safe! Knowing that even as you say those words...someone is not safe...someone is dead. Is it your son or anothers?
  

 A day or so later the name is released, you breathe a sigh of relief, your heart rejoices, no one knocked on your door, no one called you, he is okay! And then the shattering takes place as you realize that somewhere, someplace, there is someone just like you, someone who prayed, someone who was so afraid........and someone knocked on her door.

 The entire deployment goes round and round, you replay these scenes over and over again. One day you receive a call.......he has been wounded.....it is like a punch in the stomach, your legs shake and will not support your weight, the time between that first sentence and the next which describes his wounds.....is forever. For me, I was one of the lucky ones, the wounds were a concussion and a jacked up back and hip, nothing major and my son was back in action within a week or so of the call.....but a lot of folks do not get a call like that....they get the call of lost limbs, of a loved one hanging to life by a thread. Oh Lord I know not how they endured these things for I never want to get any closer to that than I did.

 I have followed the accounts of friends who rushed to their son's sides. Who gave up everything to sit by their bed, to wrestle with Doctors and Nurses and to fight for them while they were unable to. I have followed their sons  as they climb from the very edge of death to recovery, and followed others who climbed and then died for no good reason. Followed others who fought with every bit of their will only to succumb to their wounds.

 I have followed parents, shared prayers with them, prayed for their sons, and those sons fell. I have followed these parents as they walk this life without their child.

 I know mothers who found their children dead, dead by their own hand, haunted by the demons of PTSD. Can you imagine anything more horrible? I have known about PTSD for some time and have always supported those who battle it, but in truth, in retrospect, I find that all that I thought that I knew about it was really only the tip of the iceberg.

 Our family has moved on from war, and from the military, we now join the ranks of the veterans and the veteran families. We battle the VA now, we battle PTSD and TBI and do our best to rescue our loved ones from the darkness that ever threatens to consume them. I thought I had seen the worst of things, experienced the worst of things, I thought there was nothing worse than sitting here, protected, surrounded by all the luxuries this American life has to offer, while my beloved child fought in a far away land......now I am not so sure.

 Now that I have come face to face with PTSD and all it's demons, I realize that I am in the battle of my life right now, a battle that I have personally seen good people, people who loved with all their hearts and souls, people who prayed, people who did all that they could humanly do.....lose. They buried their loved one. It is a frightening truth that I struggle with each and every day.

 I will end this short introduction into the cost of war with good news. The fight is winnable. Never give up on them, keep pushing forward, keep loving them, keep praying for them, keep doing all that you can to get them into the various programs out there that can assist them in the fight. We can win this fight. And should, God forbid, we be one of those who fail, let it be said that we gave it everything we had, that we put every ounce of our being into the fight.

 To all of you who have paid your part of the cost of war, be you the warrior who went, the loved one who waited, be you one who lost someone special, or walked with them through the Wounded Warrior journey, be you one who suffers from PTSD or TBI, or someone fighting along side...whatever part of the price you have paid, we thank you, and we pray for you each and every day. You are a special bunch of people, more resilient than most will ever know, and you, more than anyone else, make me proud. May God ever bless and keep you.

 To all of you who have not had to pay, I ask you to think upon the things I have written and to do all that you can to assist this wonderful group of people who have paid their share and yours also. Stand along side of them. Try to understand them. We need you in this fight, we need you to care, we need you to help. We have a generation who has fought for over ten years, and all those connected to them, they all bear scars, they all have wounds. Stand with us, and may God ever keep you from the sorrows felt in paying the cost of war.

 Last but not least, I pray, with all my heart and soul, that our nation will learn, and understand the true price being paid for the wars we are fighting. I pray that our elected officials and our citizens will consider the cost carefully before sending our sons and daughters to war. There are things worth fighting for, there are things worth dieing for, there are situations where the cost, in lives, in wounds, in shattered hearts and souls is worth paying. Should our nation be in danger, should there be risk of our citizens here being harmed or killed, or our freedoms be at risk, then fight we must, but I hope and I pray we will always weigh the choice carefully. The cost is so very much higher than most people ever know.

"“Wait on the Lord: be of good courage, and he shall strengthen thine heart: wait, I say, on the Lord”.   Psalm 27:14

“Be of good courage.”  Alas, how can one be so when all sense and feeling dishearten the mind and deject the soul?  Lively frames in duty, sweet enlargements of heart, heavenly transports of joy, delightful ecstasies of faith, rapturous tastes of love, all, all  like Noah’s dove have taken their flight; and I fear says the drooping soul, never, never more to return.  Truly like Hezekiah, “I mourn as a dove, mine eyes fail with looking upward: O Lord I am oppressed, undertake for me,” Isaiah 38:14. 

Still, saith the Comforter by his word, “Be of good courage”.  Remember thy calling.  It is to live by faith, honour thy Lord, and be obedient to his word.  Thou hast the sentence of death in thyself that thou should not trust in thyself lest thy heart depart from thy Lord.  Not frames and feelings, but God’s love and promises in Christ to sinners are the foundation of hope.  These are abundantly sufficient to inspire the soul with courage, yea, with good courage to go on in the ways of the Lord. 

Steadfast faith cleaves to Jesus, abides by the truth, and perseveres in dutiful obedience.  Shall these ever be suspended for want of lively frames and joyful feelings?  How would this prove that we walk by faith and that our eye is single to Christ’s glory?    Nay, we should then only serve him according to the changes of sense and passion rather than by the uniform, consistent obedience of faith. 

The Lord’s word is our rule of duty; his promises are our support.  His grace is sufficient for us; his strength is made perfect in our weakness.  If our hearts are weak that we cannot run with eagerness the ways of God’s commandments as we desire, so much more reason have we to wait on the Lord for “the times of refreshing from his presence”.  For “he giveth power to the faint and to them that have no might he increaseth strength” Isaiah 40:29.

“Wait I say on the Lord.”  David repeats the command with a holy fervour to his own soul and others.  God has promised: expect fulfillment. Here is the exercise of faith: trust in the Lord Christ for what we stand in need of; of hope, expecting to receive all from him; of patience, waiting continually upon him. 

Most precious promise! “They that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength, they shall mount up with wings as eagles they shall run and not be weary, walk and not faint.  Isaiah 40: 31."

by William Mason

 Today, as I was sitting outside on my break, attempting to write something, some blessing received, I asked the Lord, to open my eyes, my ears, my heart to His blessings…for I was empty..
 Then quite suddenly the thought of singing trees entered my mind, and I began to notice the wind, and the trees, and I began to hear the rustling of the leaves as the trees bent back and forth in the wind….their leaves rustling together…like song….and I could hear them sing.

 The sycamore trees were loud and joyful, their leaves making a mighty rustling sound, their many limbs whipping back and forth in time with the wind…nearby the pines sang, their voices low, almost overpowered by the sycamore…until you stood close to them, they more stoic and reserved, but still singing….and the Japanese maple, dancing gracefully, its song but a whisper in the wind…

How blessed I am, what blessing…to hear the trees sing!

 Later, after penning these words in my journal, I in curiosity decided to do an internet search for trees singing. And I found this poem and this painting....…..How delightful!

When the Trees Sing

When the trees sing,
It doesn't really matter
If you know the song,
Or if you know the words,
Or even if you know the tune.
What really matters is knowing
That the trees are singing at all.

May 6, 1998© Matthew Joseph Thaddeus Stepanek

Living in New Mexico one becomes accustomed to dirt. My yard is pretty much a huge dirt yard, there are various desert plants and some fruit trees, some decorative grass…….and for those of us who live here it does not look all that bad.

As I walked along the lakeshore, I saw brightly colored dragonflies, some red, some blue, darting about on the water. A red tailed hawk took to the sky and soared above, prairie dogs gave their warning barks and dived into their shelters as I passed, a few brave ones standing at the edge on hind legs…watching me.

Bells began to ring across the meadow and as I looked out I could see a flock of sheep coming across the field, driven by one little sheepdog. He carefully took them out into the middle; made sure each one was accounted for, and then settled down to watch them graze.

By now the horses are curious; they approach me slowly and with some trepidation. I began to talk to them, hands at my sides, not really staring at them, just telling them what a pretty place this is, and how much I enjoyed looking at it. They got within 8 to 10 feet of me, but any movement to reach a hand out, or entice them nearer was met with snorts and head tosses. So I took a few photos of them as they watched me.

As I walked about they followed from a distance of about 10-15 feet, stopping if I stopped, watching me closely if I turned to look at them, I took a few more photos, and just continued to chat with them as I walked. I took a few photos of the sheep, the dog unwilling to let me get to close, he warned me off with a bark, and when I took two steps forward he began to move his sheep away. So I backed away and left him be, hearing his message…I am working. No time to meet new friends right now.

I began my walk back towards the vehicle, and the horses followed. I figured they would stop at the edge of the grassland, but they did not, so I chatted with them as we walked, still not being able to touch them or get to close.

They stopped some distance from the car, and at that point, since they had come so far and been such great company, I had to reward them in some way, so I pulled carrots from the ice chest, and made my way back to them, and just stood, a few carrots in hand, and asked them if they would like one.

Slowly and with caution, the big blaze faced one approached, and extended his neck as far as he could, and then extended his lips and managed to grasp a carrot from the edge of my palm…and then he came a little closer. Within moments I was able to touch his neck, and then another came closer, and another.

Surrounded by horses I continue talking to them, most of them allow me to pat their necks, they become curious about the vehicle and one decides it would make a wonderful butt scratcher…and begins to scratch his backside on the back of the car, another for whatever reason decides to lick the back windshield…..and then another decides the windshield wipers just might be edible.

At this point it is time to say goodbye, before my husband gets upset at them for eating parts of the vehicle, so I climb into the driver’s seat and gently shoo them away, and take a short drive to the nearest rest facilities. Upon my return they had all gone back to their grazing.

I took my chair down to the lake where my husband and sister in law were fishing, along with my pole and my book, and sat for a spell, listening to the water gently lap against the shore, watching the birds flying above, the dragonflies flitting to and fro, and the occasional fish leaping from the water. I fished for perhaps ten minutes and quickly lost interest.

I read for a while, went for another walk, took a nap and just generally soaked up the sun and rested. No fish were caught on this trip and by noon the thunderheads were rolling in and a hard storm was approaching, so we took our leave of Blue Water Lake, for fear of being caught in the storm and getting stuck in the mud that was sure to be left in its wake.

I left refreshed and full of joy, the circumstances of my life had not changed, I still have a son suffering from severe PTSD, my daughter in law is still dead, my younger son still depressed, my niece still dealing with her husband’s suicide, all the things to worry about were still there, but I was at peace.

I thought a lot about heaven that day, what it must be like, would there be the same animals in the new heaven and new earth as we have on this one? I believe so, after all my Lord has told me He is preparing a place for me, and He has told me that I am unable to even imagine how wonderful it will be. I have always loved His creatures, and it is His will to delight His children….there will be animals in heaven!