I expected to be bored by the sermon.  The preacher was young and looked over-eager.  But then he said something that lodged in my spirit:  "nothing leaves shrapnel in a soul like shattered dreams."

It was true and it was poetic.  How many of us have nurtured a seed of a dream, watered it with time and attention, and given it love and hope, only to see it die?  Maybe it was the dream of changing the world in some small way.  Maybe it was just the dream of a relationship.

I'm watching my children get into and out of serious relationships. And I've observed that when the dream of the relationship has shattered, it's been easy for shrapnel to lodge in the soul.

The thing about shrapnel, I'm told, is that it can move around inside you, and if it finds its way to your heart, and there blocks the flow of blood, it can kill you.

As searing as the pain of a shattered dream can be, letting the resulting grief fester until it becomes bitterness can be worse still.  The shrapnel needs to be dug out, the grief properly observed; words of forgiveness need to be spoken.

Too many of us are walking around with shrapnel in our souls.  Dig it out before it goes to your heart.