Cast Up A Highway - Build your personal highway to God!
RSS Follow Become a Fan

Delivered by FeedBurner

Recent Posts

First Valentine
Lessons Learned Through Depth Study.
Depth 4 Golden Globes
Depth 3 Treasure Chest Discovered
We Shall Never Forget!

Most Popular Posts

Rooting out the Weed
You Are Toast, Enemy!
Ferocious Fire!
Scrape Off the Scabs
Immensity Of Our God


End days
Faithful God
Glory to God!
God and nation
God's Hunger for Us
God's Love
God's Word
Helper God
Holy Spirit
Hunger for God
Jesus, God's own Son
Loving God
Meandering Thoughts
One with God
Our precious children
Our Protector God
The Third Person
The Word Says
Trusting God
Who is this God?


February 2018
September 2017
August 2017
July 2017
June 2017
May 2017
April 2017
March 2017
February 2017
January 2017
December 2016
November 2016
October 2016
September 2016
August 2016
July 2016
June 2016
May 2016
April 2016
March 2016
February 2016
January 2016
December 2015
November 2015
October 2015
September 2015
August 2015
July 2015
June 2015
May 2015
April 2015
March 2015
February 2015
January 2015
December 2014
November 2014
October 2014
September 2014
August 2014
July 2014
June 2014
May 2014
April 2014
March 2014
February 2014
January 2014
December 2013
November 2013
October 2013
September 2013
August 2013
July 2013
June 2013
May 2013
April 2013
March 2013
February 2013
January 2013
December 2012
November 2012
October 2012
September 2012
August 2012
July 2012
June 2012
May 2012
April 2012
March 2012
February 2012
January 2012
December 2011
November 2011
October 2011
September 2011
August 2011
July 2011
June 2011
May 2011
April 2011
March 2011

powered by

Share a Thought

We Honor Those. . .

How exciting! The day had come to leave on our journey. My cousin and I were going on a European tour and then spending 2 weeks hitchhiking around France. We both studied French and had a command (of sorts) of the language. it was a great expedition!

Yesterday suddenly a picture flashed in my mind from that long ago trip. I was standing in front of a sea of Crosses with a Star of David here and there. It was an American cemetery in France holding the bodies of soldiers who died in World War I and II. The vast numbers of graves  took my breath away when I realized these were American lives that never came home from the war, young lives sacrificed for freedom~ not just our freedom, but for peoples of other nations as well.

This week we remember our veterans in a special day of thanksgiving for their sacrifices made to keep us free. Lord, bless them, keep them in your comfort and care. Let them know Your love.

Years ago on an Easter Sunday I’d prepared a turkey dinner for my husband and I; just as we sat down there was a knock at the door. When I opened it a stranger walked right past me and up to the table where my husband sat. Though he was unknown to me, my husband got a huge grin and stood up to give the guy a hug. He was an old high school buddy.

He was a patient at the VA hospital across town. My confusion gone, I invited him to join in our meal. He said “no, did we have some orange juice?” He proceeded to bring out a bottle of vodka. As we ate he drank and talked. The more he drank, the more pain rose to the surface until we heard stories of what he’d been through in Viet Nam, not just what happened to him, but what he was made to do. The man was racked with guilt and sorrow. Modern film could picture his body filled with little demons using pick axes all over his insides. But it was his mind and the horror of the sounds and pictures that kept repeating themselves over and over that gushed out.

That night visit impacted me with a vision of what war does to human beings. We are brought up to love and care for each other, then sent out in war to kill and maim people. To make it possible we brand people as things: japs, gooks, jerries, chinks~ a thing is easier to kill than a human being.

It’s the same tactic the abortion industry uses calling a baby “tissue or fetus”. But a baby is a baby is a baby no matter what you call it. When an abortion is performed a baby is murdered. When you cut the baby body up to sell its head and brain, heart or lungs~ it’s a baby being cut up. It’s barbaric; how do we let this go on? Our taxes pay for this! We must defund Planned Parenthood at the very least!

I will raise awareness every place I can about the abortion industry. But that digression does not negate my wish to honor our veterans. November is the special month when we thank our Vets for their service, and I do thank them for all they have suffered and perhaps still are suffering for my freedom. . . terrible burns,  the lost limbs, the PTSD, the families also affected. Words are not enough but it’s what I have to give, and I freely express my appreciation to them! They deserve so much more!

Lord God, please lift each Vet up and bless them in a special way.

2 Comments to We Honor Those. . .:

Comments RSS
Barbarann Ayars on Thursday, November 12, 2015 2:57 PM
My stepfather saw a whole 18 days of WWII when he was shot and left to die in a poppy field. He lay there for 3 days, the only one alive among nearly a thousand, picked up by the dead man crew and throw up on the open truck full of bodies. Nine months in a French hospital finally allowed him to return home. IN today's world, where soldiers can email home, skype on computers and do short tours, the comparison is a bit hard to grasp. Dad saw five thousand men die around him. What isn't realized is that the return of millions of shell shocked men were really suffering what we now call, and treat, PTSD. Not so for them. They came home grateful and guilty for living, and now had the task of rebuilding a nation. The starry eyed girls they left on shore were now women with skills and a can-do attitude. They understood they carried the nation, literally, through the war. Many of them saw and exercised their potential. Understood forfeiting their jobs back to their men. But they did not like it, nor did they, by and large, willingly resume their apron and pots and pans. Yes. Many of them married and had children happily, but a huge core of them were permanently frustrated. Within them lay the banked fires that would determine the women's movement. Sadly, the young women of today do not grasp that. Within my mother lies their story. She walks away with my memoir. Mine is about abandonment to an orphanage while she kept her hide together. But hers is about triumphing over the odds to succeed.
Reply to comment
Mary on Friday, November 13, 2015 8:39 AM
A powerful story Barbarann! My husband's father was in WWII. He spent time in a pow camp, came home and became an alcoholic. My husband, in his 20's knocked on a door in an apt above a bar and reintroduced himself to his father. His Mom was a nurse working in VA hospitals. He too was put in an orphanage for a few years until his mom could get him out. She raised a wonderful man. We don't know even half of what went on due to the war. Thank you for your enlightening beautifully written account of your family experience! I appreciate you Barbarann.

Add a Comment

Your Name:
Email Address: (Required)
Make your text bigger, bold, italic and more with HTML tags. We'll show you how.
Post Comment
Website Builder provided by  Vistaprint