‘POW’ Tom Gains His Freedom

True Story: WWII had ended. And yet . . . for about thirty years afterwards Tom, haunted by the ugly scenes that he’d witnessed when engaged in the theatre of war, agonized deeply—tortured especially by the fact that he’d killed fellow human beings. He eventually sank into the dark dungeon of depression and despair. 

One day in the mid-1970s, while alone in his house, he took his shotgun and, in a suicide attempt, blew off a large portion of his face. Amazingly, help reached him in time, and he survived. 

I don't have Tom's photo.

Pictured here is my late father-in-law.

Following the Normandy Invasion he 

was assigned to the British Liberation

Army, and was the only one of four 

school buddies to return home alive. 

He didn't like to talk about it.

 

After much reconstructive surgery, including the fashioning of a new jawbone from another bone and graft tissue from elsewhere in his body, Tom was on the road to physical recovery. Yet the emotional wounds persistently pained him. Until . . . 

Until the psychological and spiritual prisons that led to his committing that desperate act were broken open and demolished. 

A neighbour of Tom’s—a pastor friend of mine—visited with him and gently encouraged him during his long journey towards physical recovery, sharing faith and hope in the love of Jesus. Other Christian folk also came by. Tom, like a prisoner of war and hungry for relief was finally heart-ready to be set free from the shackles that held him bound; ready to find the peace that had eluded him all those years.

Tom opened up his life to God and received Jesus Christ as his Saviour. He experienced a palpable sense of forgiveness and release, peace and wholeness. It was for real! Hungry for more of this grace, he and his wife began attending a supportive Christian fellowship. 

I shared many a conversation with Tom, for I also became his neighbour, during his continuing journey of healing and faith.

Quite some years ago I wrote about Tom, and suggested that until He received the healing presence of Jesus into his life he’d remained, in effect, a 'POW'— prisoner of war, although the war had long before been fought and won.

Many people live like POWs, even though, through His death and resurrection, Jesus Christ won our war against the forces of evil and the sinful nature that are at enmity against the goodness, grace and will of God. 

Do you remain imprisoned within yourself—bound up in chains of sorrow, anger, unforgiveness, guilt, unfounded fear and wounded pride, and more? Is your heart broken, in a state of perpetual fragmentation, because you’ve been unwilling to let Jesus heal it?

May God grant this year’s Remembrance Day season to be one in which you are released from any prison cells of the soul that have too long held you in spiritual chains. It will be a Remembrance Day season well worth remembering.

A Prayer:

Dear God our Heavenly Father, I thank You for the gift of Your Son, who shed His blood on the ‘battlefield’ of the Cross to secure my pardon. I claim Your forgiveness of all my sins. Cleanse me, renew my spirit and mind, and lead me in Your way everlasting. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

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Peter is a retired pastor – well, sort of retired – as he is currently engaged as an associate volunteer pastor. He lives in Southwestern Ontario with his wife, May, and writes a weekly inspirational newspaper column and occasional magazine articles. Peter is author of two books: "Parables from the Pond" (Word Alive Press) and "Raise Your Gaze . . . Mindful Musings of a Grateful Heart" (Angel Hope Publishing). He and May are also engaged in leading nursing home / residential chapel services, pulpit supply and music. ~+~

STEALING LILACS: A Tribute by Heidi McLaughlin

The first time it happened I was only four. “Mommy why are we stealing these lilacs?” “Do those pretty flowers belong to us?” I was bewildered as I watched my gentle mother on her tiptoes reaching and snapping the branches from the vintage purple lilac bush.  Soon her arms were filled with bunches of purple and the succulent aroma made her smile from ear to ear. I must have been mistaken, my quiet and tender mother would never do anything wrong.  Certainly not steal. Captivated by my mother’s joy I clung to her hand and bounced along as we headed back to our compact bungalow nestled in a small village in Germany.

World War Two left bomb shelters, broken dreams and poverty throughout Germany. Yes, the rubble was being transformed into its former beauty and culture, but families were still struggling to re-establish their former lifestyle. My young and innocent mother was confined to the bareness and poverty after a devastating war, and I knew she longed for beauty. We were very poor. There was no garden to grow fresh vegetables or soil for my mother to grow the Dahlias, Sweet Williams, pansies or carnations.  Her heart yearned to fill our home with vases filled with cut flowers of every shape, color and fragrance.

MY MOTHER YEARNED FOR BEAUTY

When we moved to Canada it felt like paradise to have our own vegetable garden and flowerbeds. Mother and I with our knees close together, poked holes in the soil and she showed me how to gently insert the tiny seeds and cover them just right. Soon our yard represented a painting of asters, dahlias and any flowers that survived the harsh winters and cooler summers of Prince George, British Columbia, Canada. Often, I saw mother heading outdoors with a pair of scissors to cut just the right combination of flowers that filled many of our crystal vases.  Finally, she had the freedom to unleash her inner desires and create a home filled with beauty, peace and fulfillment.

Over time I observed mother expressing and modeling beauty through various avenues. I was fascinated by the way she hung clothes out in the fresh air, laboriously and lovingly securing each item with the wooden cloth pegs. With perfection, she was able to iron and transform dried wrinkled messes into absolute perfection. For hours she was either on her knees or stooped over a buffing machine to wax and polish our floors until we could see our reflections. Somewhere in the house, there was always the aroma of a flower or the smell of freshly baked bread. She found it difficult to say, “I love you” but every day she reflected her love by creating images and fragrances that let us know we were the most important people in her life.

MY MOTHER TAUGHT ME WELL

As the years passed I learned to appreciate and understand her quiet quest for peace and beauty. Now that I’m all grown up, I live in Kelowna, British Columbia, Canada. Each spring the earth awakens with Saskatoon berry blossoms, forsythia bushes and daffodils. My joy erupts when I walk through the surrounding vineyards, and then along a fence where I find a particular purple lilac bush.  Its branches creep outside of its normal enclosure and I just happen to have a pair of scissors in my pocket. Without hesitation I snip off a few branches, carry them home and put them into a vase to watch them burst open in all their splendour.

Through strolls in the meadows my mother cultivated my heart to explore and enjoy the simple things in life. I am so grateful that she modeled how to infuse simplicity with beauty to create a beautiful loving home. My mother taught me well.

Heidi McLaughlin lives in the beautiful vineyards of the Okanagan Valley in Kelowna, British Columbia. Heidi has been widowed twice. She is a mom and step mom of a wonderful, eclectic blended family of 5 children and 12 grandchildren. When Heidi is not working, she loves to curl up with a great book, or golf and laugh with her family and special friends.

Her latest book RESTLESS FOR MORE: Fulfillment in Unexpected Places (Including a FREE downloadable Study Guide) is now available at Amazon.ca; Amazon.com, Goodreads.com or her website: www.heartconnection.ca

Survivor’s Guilt? Remembrance Musings

She hadn’t yet been born. What would it have been like to be there with her brother and four older sisters and their mother, welcoming their daddy back home from Europe? His military service

Returned Allied Soldier

Courtesy: Daily Mail, UK.

covered the WWII years. Whereas he’d spent the majority of his military service in an engineers’ battalion, doing fortifications and other security work around the UK, his last year saw him in Europe as part of the British Liberation Army.

My wife, May, would like to have heard her dad share stories of his military service, but as is often the case with veterans who’d witnessed tragic scenes, his lips were sealed . . . just wouldn’t talk about them. We understand, however, that he had witnessed horrific scenes amidst appalling conditions in that final year of service, as they moved in to liberate people and prisoners of war in areas which had been under Nazi control.

May's Dad, early 1940s.

He was the lone survivor of four of his hometown buddies who went into wartime service.

Three didn’t return home alive; he did. Whereas ‘survivor’s guilt’ likely wasn’t warranted, I suspect he quietly suffered from it. I wish now that I were able to encourage him to open up and unload the burdens of his heart, but he’s long gone. He died in Scotland in 1977, when we were already living in Canada. Poignantly today I reflect that I’m now the same age that he was when he died.

Are you an Armed Forces vet? Or, is there one in your family or friendship circle? Helping those who carry painful, traumatic memories to find relief requires considerable sensitivity.

Here’s a path that has helped me and many folks to deal with deep and troubling personal concerns: In the quietness of solitude and the sanctuary of my own heart, mostly in private and sometimes with a trusted friend who is a true believer in Jesus, I confess my need, pouring it all out in Jesus’ name to God – my loving Heavenly Father. I sincerely ask for grace to accept His forgiveness for my failures and sins in a spirit of forgiveness towards others. Jesus Christ died and rose again to cleanse and secure forgiveness for me and for us all.

Following through, I seek strength to live in that new reality in a spirit of gratitude.

I’ve found that my burdens are often lightened by following this path. Frequent, daily talks with Jesus along life’s pathway are precious and healthful to me.

War is a terrible thing and surely oughtn’t to be glamourized. It involves more than physical bodies and material armaments; war is a spiritual thing, and involves deep spiritual forces and consequences. Sadly, despite this age of such great enlightenment the dark spectre of war continually stalks the earth.

Let us pray for our nation,

as we remember with respect and commemorate with gratitude those who have paid the ultimate price and those who continue meeting the great cost of keeping our nation “glorious and free”!

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Peter A. Black is a retired pastor – well, sort of retired – and lives in Southwestern Ontario. He writes a weekly inspirational newspaper column, P-Pep! and is author of Raise Your Gaze ... Mindful Musings of a Grateful Heart, and Parables from the Pond -- a children's / family book. ~~+~~

Arise, Shine, in the Light of Hope!

When the light of hope dims and dies people, like flowers, fade and die. When the light of hope shines bright, people thrive and live. When people lose hope they may wither emotionally and spiritually, even before they waste away physically. But, when the light of hope is restored, the heart can heal.

Last Sunday—the First of Advent – those statements introduced my message. The Advent Candle signifying Hope had been lit and a brief reading presented. Hope­—a marvelous focus for introducing the Advent season culminating in Christmas and the celebration of our Saviour’s birth.

Either loss or absence of hope can sometimes be tied to the kind of values a person holds. For example, consider the stock market crash of October 1929 that kicked off The Great Depression of the 1930s. Thousands of wealthy people lost their fortunes overnight. The media reported a rash of suicides of those who, overwhelmed by deep anguish and utter despondency, cast themselves from office towers to smash on the streets below, while others jumped from bridges to perish in frigid waters.

It’s entirely possible that a good many of those souls had invested their hopes in the thing they valued most—their riches. News of their financial ruin was sufficient to plunge them into hopeless despair.

Often it was common folk who, although possessing little beforehand, showed great fortitude and resourcefulness, pressing through against all odds, rationing and sharing the little they had. Then similarly, in WWII, which followed.

They valued a work ethic and tackled the challenge of keeping their families alive. They valued life itself and expected themselves to do their best despite dire circumstances. Hope’s flame, though flickering, still shed light. Millions from across society crowded into churches to pray and renew their commitments to God.

Numerous factors may give rise to acts of suicide—each one tragic. However, we can note that monumental emotional pain, lack of hope and one’s feeling helplessly imprisoned in despair can result in his or her devaluing or undervaluing life.

 

Source: PrintShop

To what shall we liken hope? A light – even a small, flickering flame. A tiny seed invested in the ground. A tender shoot – its filamentary roots clinging to a crevice of the soul. A deposit made of the most valued thing surrendered.

Credit: Dreamstimes

Hope can be like a thought that becomes a gentle inspiration upon which to act. A word coming as a silent voice of persuasion, spoken in the heart. Hope can be a child – a birth that offers possibility of a new generation, joy and a future.

The eighth century BC prophet Isaiah sent a clarion call cascading through time that was in part fulfilled in the birth of Jesus:



Credit: Print Shop

“For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace” (Isaiah 9:6 NIV2011).

“Arise, shine, for your light has come, and the glory of the LORD rises upon you.” (Isaiah 60:1NIV2011).

Isaiah declared God’s message of hope in the midst of gathering gloom in Old Testament Israel. Many had forsaken their trust in the Lord God and had lost their moral and faith compass, while foreign powers threatened them.

Then and now, those who invest and maintain their trust in Father God and embrace the message that in the promised Messiah / Christ the Light of God comes to them, His glory – honour  and favour – rises upon them.

Let us embrace Jesus Christ our Light and let His Light of Hope fill our hearts and embrace us.

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Peter A. Black lives in Southwestern Ontario. He writes a weekly inspirational newspaper column, P-Pep! and is author of Raise Your Gaze ... Mindful Musings of a Grateful Heart, and Parables from the Pond.
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Remembering a Stalwart Generation (by Peter A. Black)

As I contemplated Remembrance Day 2016, I recalled some First and Second World War veterans I’d met personally over the years, and also several who’d served in other conflicts, including the Korean War.

Some were members of congregations I’d served or of Royal Canadian Legion branches in various communities. Generally, those vets impressed me with their stalwart bearing and sense of duty, and especially their loyalty to our country.

 

That generation had come through the Great Depression of the Thirties and the rise of fascism in Europe. The noxious scent of entitlement seemed absent from them, although I couldn’t miss recognizing the occasional expression of disgust over its prevalence in our current society. 

 

However, today I’m thinking of two ladies who served on home soil during WWII. Bessie who  was involved in munitions work in Brantford, Ontario, is in her mid-nineties. I’m scheduled to lead a Remembrance Day service in the retirement residence where she lives, and I hope to see her there.

Rev. & Mrs. A. Brndjar with Mrs. Doris Ley -- 100th B-Day!

Doris Ley is another great stalwart of WWII, who served on home soil. She was the guest of honour at the country Baptist Church where my octogenarian friend Andy (the Reverend Andrew Brndjar) is long-term interim pastor. On Thanksgiving Sunday Andy led the congregation in a combined Thanksgiving Service and Celebration of Doris’ 100^th Birthday. I was honoured to play organ and sing a song of thanksgiving at that event.

 

Andy took his text from Ecclesiastes chapter 12, in which Israel’s King Solomon describes in allegorical language the changes that often happen as people age. Bottom line: they typically experience a decline in various physical faculties, and in some cases, loss of cognitive function.

 

Doris is, however, blessed with an amazing level of sustained health. Her sight and hearing are good, and she can still walk unaided, except for steadying herself with a walker. She’s always coiffed and smartly-dressed. Besides, her mind and memory are amazingly sharp, and it’s perhaps surprising

Courtesy: Canadian Harvard Association

that she has a full complement of her own natural teeth.

 

It was appropriate that this lady and her late husband enjoyed some retirement years together in Tillsonburg, Ontario, which is the home of the Canadian Harvard Aircraft Association. (The Harvards—painted distinctively in bright yellow—were used in training pilots during WWII.)

I say “appropriate,” because Doris Ley, in the course of her significant career as an engineering metallurgist, worked on the famous Lancaster Bombers during the war. Therefore, understandably, living close to the vintage Harvards was evocative for her.

 

Courtesy: Canadian Warplane Heritage Museum

The Lancasters played an important role in behalf of our country and its allies. Doris’s knowledge and understanding of her professional field gave birth to innovative ideas in helping solve problems that occasionally arose with them. Several years ago she enjoyed the thrill of being taken on a brief flight in one of only two Lancasters in the world that are currently flight-worthy.

 

Significant to Doris’s life is her active Christian faith and the investment of wisdom, faith, hope and love she made in the lives of young people through a Bible class she facilitated, continuing until well into her 80s.

 

Doris, now resident in another community, continues to take an active interest in what’s going on around her and in the world at large, and readily shares out of her professional experience and her many decades of confident trust in God.

 

Here’s to Doris and Bessie and those men and women who served and those currently serving at home and abroad to maintain our freedoms and help people of other countries have them too.

 

 God bless'em every one. . . God bless’em!

 

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Peter A. Black lives in Southwestern Ontario. He writes a weekly inspirational newspaper column, P-Pep! and is author of Raise Your Gaze ... Mindful Musings of a Grateful Heart, and Parables from the Pond.
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