I'm back after a two-month hiatus, and vow to maintain this blog a bit better in the future. I am accustomed to writing for my own benefit these days, and was surprised - pleasantly surprised, at that - to see that someone other than family had not only read my blogs, but appreciated what I was sharing. So . . .

I recently made a commitment to join a Vietnam vets support group that meets on Monday mornings for six months. There are five of us, plus two counselors. We spend an hour and a half each week unpacking excess baggage that has accumulated over these past 40-plus years since returning to the world (as we commonly referred to our country back then).

Being in a third world country for 13-months was a hard slap in the face of my reality, in that I saw and experienced horrific events that are forever etched in my mind's eye. Learning not to see, so to speak, is one of the tasks on which I am working. Let me put that another way: I am, in fact, learning to see, but to do so in a way that enables me not to have that scene disrupt my life and the lives of those closest to me. I am learning that there is much anger within, and how to direct that anger in a healthy way.

I coined the following phrase recently after listening to others, and then to myself, describing some of what I felt: "emotional shrapnel." I was blessed to return without being physically wounded. There were some close calls, and I can still hear in my head jagged pieces of steel flying close to my head on several occasions. One came so close that it actually hurt, and I was startled to learn a little while later that people 150 meters (we used this measurement, rather than yards) behind where I was standing.

Emotional shrapnel, on the other hand, did land, and on more than one occasion. I spent hours typing out my experiences several years ago. It was suggested that by doing so I might come to a place where I could better face my fears and demons. It did help, but they are still inside of me, and will be as long as I am able to breathe on this earth.

I recall the brother of a church member some years ago who told me of the shrapnel that he received during World War II. Doctors told me that these tiny fragments would, from time to time, come to the surface of his body. At that time, he was to go to the VA Hospital and have them cut out. More than 40 years later, he was still going, on a somewhat regular basis, to have these removed.

The purpose of our support group is to help us deal more effectively with the junk that eats away on the inside. Since beginning in early July, I can attest in the affirmative that we are forming a bond that I feel will enable us to become surgeons on one another as we give support and encouragement. It is of great interest to me that each of the others has a faith system that is vital and in place. We call upon Christ as the Great Physician to perform surgery as often as is needed.

(After writing this, I Googled the term "emotional shrapnel" and discovered that I did not, in fact, coin the term. Oh, well . . . the term has great meaning to me, and I am grateful to whoever did.

I would encourage you, the reader, to look within and see if there is any of this stuff tearing you apart. If so, let it come to the surface and then ask for help in removing it. Some of the metal shrapnel, I am told, never comes to the surface. These pieces will always remain as a reminder that life can be difficult and severely painful.