Last week was pretty rough for us. Between Wednesday and Saturday, we had three separate attacks on our vehicles with IEDs; the one soldier was killed, one medically evacuated, and several had minor injuries. Looking back, I have a couple things to say about our hardest days so far.

First of all, we've never been more happy to have a week come to an end, and we never want to repeat that week again! Second, don't believe for a second that we in the Guard are stuck with second-rate equipment; if we hadn't been driving the Army's best armored Hum-vees, several more of our guys would be dead right now. Third, our worship on Sunday after all this had happened was one of the most powerful experiences of my life. We had a time of testimony and prayer, and from the fallen soldier's commander to an IED survivor, the Spirit was more powerfully, visibly present than I have experienced in a long time.

Speaking of the work of the Holy Spirit, here are two more stories from last week that are infused with the Spirit's action.

1. Several weeks ago, a church in Arizona that supports me as a chaplain had asked what they could send to help the troops. I suggested sending some "Febreeze", since we tend to get a little ripe in 120 weather in body armor. Several packages arrived on Thursday, but with all the activity, I didn't get to open them. On Friday, I met with the soldiers who had tried to rescue Josh Hanson from his burning vehicle. After two hours of talking as a group, one of the soldiers told me how he hated going back to his room because it still smelled of the smoke from the vehicle fire, and that brought back all the images to his head. I said, "We might have received some Febreeze in the mail. If we have some, do you want it?" He said yes, and all the other soliders in his section also asked for some. I opened the boxes, and there was Febreeze for them, just enough for every soldier to have one. For that, I give my praise to God and my thanks to Desert Skies United Methodist Chur ch.

2: Saturday night I saw one of my soldiers brought into the hospital with a shrapnel wound to his foot, requiring him to be evacuated to a higher level of care. I prayed with him, and he asked me if he could get his cross and saint medallion to take with him (when soldiers come into the ER, they are stripped down to their underwear, so the docs don't miss any hidden injuries). We found his chain, but couldn't find the cross anywhere. Assuming it was lost, we prepared to move him, but just as we lifted his back off the gurney, we saw a glimmer of gold in the blanket. His cross had been underneath him the whole time. God is always with us, even when we can't see Him.

Well, I know that's a lot of writing, but it's therapeutic to me to tell some of these stories. So, if you've made it this far, thanks as always for reading and and taking the time to understand a little more of what's going on here in the desert.

God be good to you!
CH Steve Timm