Merry Christmas

The Greatest Need

If our greatest need had been information, God would have sent us an eduactor;

If our greatest need had been technology, God would have sent us a scientist;

If our greatest need had been money, God would have sent us an economist;

If our greatest need had been pleasure, God would have sent us an entertainer;

But our greatest need was forgiveness, so God sent us a Savior. 

~ Author unknown

Mom and Natasha looking at a life size Nativity at Opryland in TN.

I hope you all have a joyful Christmas and a blessed New Year!

Dad, Natasha, Mom, Daniel, Janel, Me, Rebecca (cousin) Thanksgiving 2012 Opryland

Time Together

I spent a week with my sister, brother-in-law, and niece a while ago.  Here's a picturesque view of what we did:

We got a Christmas tree. (And Janel informed me that my wardrobe did not match my hat; I think a more rugged looking jacket would look better.)

Natasha had fun playing with the Christmas decorations. (She picked out her own clothing to wear for the day.)

I longed to move into this charming little house across the road from my sister.  I love the pine trees as a back drop; they remind me of the pine trees I walked along every day on my way to class when I was at college.  I had read The Frontersman before I left for college and when I walked by the trees, I imagined Indians hiding in that woods, waiting for the opportune moment to sneak out and grab me . . . just like they did to Simon Kenton.  Back to the house . . . the only problem is that you can't see the sun set from this location.

We went shopping and Natasha enjoyed trying on different hair pieces.

I decorated a wreath for Janel's utility room door. 

We had a gingerbread house party but used cardboard for the houses.  Natasha had such fun playing with all the candy. 

Janel and her sister-in-law introduced me to Downton Abbey, which inspired Janel to try Miss Mary's hairstyle on me.  It turned out rather nice, which made me feel a bit like royalty.

 I am inspired by the house, the interior, the clothing, hairstyles and the theme song.  

My 'gingerbread' house . . . my 'log cabin' construction has some flaws.  I think I'll stick with interior work, and leave the construction to someone else.

Cousins

Cousins, then . . .  2001 . . .

And now . . . . 2012  . . .

(Plus Natasha, who we were trying to keep happy.) 

A Tennessee Thanksgiving

This year my family went to my Aunt and Uncle's place in TN for Thanksgiving.  I believe it was the first time I was out of my home state for Thanksgiving, and it was the first year my aunt had not come to her home state for Thanksgiving since she got married, thirty some years ago.  I think that is why I enjoyed our Thanksgiving in TN so much: Because Aunt Rita got to stay home for the day.

Due to having a year full of deaths, hardships and disappointments, I was having a challenging time choosing to be thankful for much of anything.  Somewhere in KY, heading down the interstate, my attitude changed.   Here is how it happened:

We were in the far left lane of the three -lane, southbound interstate. All of a sudden, mom (driving) allarmingly said "Oh my! Oh no! Greg . . . Where do I go?! Oh no! Oh dear Lord!" I looked to my right and saw we were parallel with semi truck which was pushing a little four-door car, which was headed east and west. The smell of rubber filled the air.  Mom applied the breaks, as did the semi.  The car drove in front of us, into the grass separating the north and south interstate, hit the guard cables, threw grass and dirt onto the north bound lane, bounced back and stopped in the grass.  Mom pulled off, and she and dad got out to help the couple.  Passing vehicles had slowed down. The semi pulled off, as did two or three other cars.  Dad called 911, while I stood by our van and watched as the husband and wife got out of the car, and mom went to be of help.  Within minutes the ambulance was there; thankfully everyone was fine. Soon two fire trucks showed up, along with four police/sheriff cars.  We gave our account of what happened, mom hugged the wife, and headed on our way.

I had many things to be thankful for after witnessing a car accident. 

And now for pictures of my Thanksgiving in Tennessee:

Natasha learning the accordion while my Aunt Rita and Uncle Bruce watch.

The weather was so nice that we all went to a park, built like a castle. Natasha loved it!  There was a little stage and Natasha put on such a cute performance, singing "Christmas is Coming" and "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star".

Front row (L-R): me, Janel, Natasha, Mom  Back Row (L-R): Aunt Rita (mom's sister), Rachal, Jennifer, and Rebecca (cousins)

One evening after cooking hot dogs over a bonfire, we sat around in Aunt Rita and Uncle Richard's barn, and played music while talking with Jason and Josh on Skype.  Aunt Rita invited a "cowboy" (as she called him) over because he was not going home for Thanksgiving.  Clinton (the cowboy) played the guitar and Indian flute (not at the same time), James and Rachal (my cousins) played keyboards, mom and Jennifer played flute and alto flute, Josh played the bango (over skype) and I played the violin.

Over all it was a wonderful time! I could have spent the whole month down there.  There's something that southern states have that northern states lack.  Can I be from the north, yet have those southern graces?

My Dog at My Feet

Somehow my post of October 13th disappeared, so this is a re-post of that post.  

 Lord, I'm hurting right now.  

My loyal and faithful friend is gone.

I knew it was the right thing to do,

I didn't want to see him suffer so.

But he's at peace now.

He was always there for me, at my feet, trotting along.

 But now I am alone.

 My dog of sixteen years is no longer with me, Lord. 

 Please keep him safe for me,

And let him know I miss him.

In fond memory of Corkie, a faithful and loyal friend.

1996 - 2012

    

The Veteran in My Life: part two

        Uncle Charlie continues to tell of how he and his crew returned and found the Hideout completely empty, after closing Camp Evans.  No one was there and everything - classified map, radios, bunkers - everything was cleared out. Uncle Charlie found a note weighted down by a rock on a "crude table hewn from a log".   It read: " 'Mr. M.----, I hope you find this. These are your orders for you and your crew to report to your next unit.' " We stood in shock. Our unit had left Viet Nam and returned to the United States without letting us know. We felt rejected.
        I told the crew to go to their quarters and gather their belonging. All was still in place as we had left it eight days earlier. We loaded everything in the aircraft and headed for our next assignment.  I reported to the new unit for all of us. When I reported, the operations officer stated, "Sure, we can use another pilot." I replied, "Well, I brought my own copilot, crew chief and door gunner, too." He was surprised. "Anything else I need to know?" he asked. I responded in the affirmative, "Well, I brought my own Huey. Do you want it?" He was rather taken back at that.

        We settled into the new unit. About three weeks later, the unit administrator posted an order stating that anyone with less than ninety days remaining on his tour would be sent back to the United States.  I had ninety-two days to go. So I missed my chance to return to the US by two days. But three days later, while walking past the same office, a voice rang out, "Hey, aren't you M-----? Your name is on the list to go home." I informed him that I had missed it by two days.  But he enlightened me that the order had just been amended and redated by three days. It was still a ninety-day order, but now I had only eighty-nine days to go. I made the list by one day. I was going home! I only had two hours to get ready to catch a flight to Da Nang on a CH-47.

        My best memory was that 1 Thessalonians 5:18 never failed me. All eyes were now pressed to the small windows until we were out of sight of the mainland. How ironic that we wanted to get a last glimpse  . . . to remember the war . . . that we do desperately wanted to forget.
       The Viet Nam war was never officially declared. It was the war . . . that wasn't. For those of us who were there, the war that wasn't, still lives within us. Little do we realize how the war that wasn't, is firmly etched in our souls. In a since, the future is not ours.  It belongs to the war that wasn't.  The war that wasn't, has a mysterious effect on every decision we make. For those of us who participated, the war . . . that wasn't . . . now is.  We are Viet Nam veterans. What do others see when they look at us?

 

"It was a relatively easy task to identify those who were wounded in Viet Nam . . . .

their uniforms are adorned with Purple Hearts.

It is a relatively easy task to identify those who were POWs in Viet Nam . . . . 

their names are public record.

It is a relatively easy task to identify those who died in Viet Nam . . . .

their names are engrave on The Wall.

It is a relatively east task to identify those who are still missing in action . . . .

their loved ones still seek them.

These are the casualties of the war . . . that wasn't. But what of the ongoing casualties of the war . . . that now is?

          Yes, it is fairly easy to distinguish those casualties of the war that wasn't. But it is more difficult to determine the casualties of the war . . .that now is. For those of the war that wasn't, it was an external matter. But for those of the war that now is, it is internal. The war that wasn't, can be measured in months and weeks. But the war that is, cannot be measured. The casualties of the war that is, continue to be wounded and dying.

         Are you a present day casualty of this internal war that now is? Do you continue to be wounded and held prisoner by what you experienced over there? Is your happiness and joy short term?

But you do not have to be a POW to what you have experienced. God is the Author of lasting joy, and His ways are time-tested and true. The counterfeits of drugs and alcohol may offer systematic relief of anger, depression and low self-esteem. But lasting peace and joy can only be experienced through a relationship with Jesus Christ.

         It is futile to approach God on our terms. A basic principle of sin is attempting to run our own life instead of choosing God's way. Choosing our own way actually separates us from God and creates a barrier. Consider these verses from the of Romans in the Bible.

Romans 3:23, "All have sinner and fall short of the glory of God."
Romans 6:23, "The wages of sin is death, but the free gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord."
Romans 10:9, "If you confess with your month that Jesus is Lord, and believe in your heart that God raised   Him from the dead, you will be saved."
Romans 10:11, "Whoever believes in Him will not be disappointed."
This verse promises that if you approach God on his terms, you will not be disappointed. You will discover true peace and joy.
Your mission in Viet Nam was to fight to preserve peace and liberty. You served your county well. You did your best in the war . . . that wasn't. But you have not completed the mission until you experience this peace yourself. Your duty is to complete the mission . . . and win . . . the war that is.

Thank you Veterans, for all the hard work you have endured on my behalf, I sincerely mean it!

Please Note: No part of these two posts is to be used in any way without permission from the author,

Viet Nam pictures included.

The Veteran in My Life: part one

Mom's brother, Charlie, is a Viet Nam helicopter pilot veteran.  He and my other Uncle, Richard, are the only two veterans I know personally.  Uncle Charlie wrote a paper about his time in Viet Nam and with it being Veteran's Day weekend, I thought it fitting to share some of it:

"I memorized 1 Thessalonians 5:18. The verse was quite simple, "In everything give thanks, for this in the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you." Little did I realize how much I would lean on this verse in months to come.

"Sometimes I fell asleep while the other pilot was flying, but twice I fell asleep while at the controls.  Once while at the controls, I fell asleep and the aircraft went into a steep left spiral and the nose tucked. I woke up and regained control of the aircraft. I glanced a the other pilot to see why he hadn't taken control. He was asleep. He never knew what happened. Sometimes the door gunner or crew chief would fire one of the M-60 machine guns just the keep us awake. 

 "There was no way to prepare for the realities of battle. During my first fire fight, the instrument panel became a blur. I couldn't focus. My eyelids were fluttering uncontrollably due to the tremendous shock waves from the projectiles passing just outside my door.  1 Thessalonians 5:18 came to my mind. I found strength in my special verse. 

". . . .flying down a riverbed, I sensed that I had flown into something. I had felt the impact, but I did not know what had happened.  When we landed to refuel, we found a small tree hanging on the right skid.

"War is always bad, but there are times when things get worse than bad."  He goes on to tell about a mission where he had to rescue some soldiers immediately, however, a dying Viet Cong soldier was laying in the way:  "He was in the only area to touch down, and I straddled him with the skids." The ground commander went to Uncle Charlie's side of the chopper and ". . . motioned for the other four to get on board.  As the others ran for the aircraft, a Viet Cong stood up on the far side of the crater. He took aim at me with his AK-47. The ground commander saw him and took aim with his converted M-79 Grenade Launcher. The M-79 barrel was sawed off to 5 inches, and the stock was fashioned into a pistol grip. The grenade hit the Viet Cong in the chest . . . "

One of Uncle Charlie's missions was to rescue a Special Forces soldier who was "pinned down on a mountaintop."  Uncle Charlie was able to locate the exact spot where the soldier was, due to his mirror signal reflection.  A captain was in the helicopter with Uncle Charlie and this happened to be his first mission, which made the captain quite nervous.  "He instructed me to light a cigarette and give it to him.  I replied that I was a pilot fully capable of flying the aircraft; he could light his own cigarette if he so desired. He refused and ordered me to light it again, I again refused. At this point he just let go the controls and grabbed his cigarette. I took control of the aircraft. He attempted to put the cigarette in his month, but missed. He was very nervous by this time. On his second attempt, he stuck the cigarette in his nose. The Huey was vibrating quite a bit, and he had difficulty finding his mouth. He was very frustrated at this point. He finally lit it and quieted down considerably. But I wasn't about to let him have the aircraft controls back."

"On the eighth day at Camp Evans, the Colonel and Commander Sergeant Major exited the command bunker and walked to the flagpole. There were now only six of us Americans at Camp Evans. I saw that the Command Sergeant Major had a tape recorder and was preparing for some sort of ceremony. Not knowing what what about to happen, I gathered my crew next to the aircraft. We were about fifty feet from the flagpole. When he began to play the Star Spangled Banner, the Colonel lowered the Stars and Stripes. The two of them furled the flag and walked over to the helicopter.  The commander said, "Let's go Mac." No one had ever called me "Mac", but I assumed he was referring to me. None of the six of us had dry eyes. It was an extreme emotional event; we had just closed Camp Evans."

To be continued.