Uptick

I'm not sure what it all means, other than having been to more Memorial Ceremonies in the last three weeks here on post than I'd been to over the rest of the deployment, but there seems to be an uptick in casualties in the recent past.

Prayers are definitely in order....

Pentecost blessings to one and all who celebrate that sort of thing,


Fr. Tim, SJ

View My Milblogging.com Profile

Sadness

My friend Dorothea died in her sleep two nights ago.

On the one hand, I'm very glad I got the chance to see her when I was home on leave. But on the other hand, I'm feeling bereft right now.

I was not able to say good-bye properly to her (i.e., in person) as I'd have liked to have done. We last spoke about two weeks ago; she was very weak, so our conversation was very brief. I didn't want to call after that, afraid I'd disturb her when she was resting, but knowing there was no way for her to call me, should she want and be able to talk.

Moreover, I won't be able to be there to give her an appropriate send-off.

Long deployments are tough on interpersonal relationships.

Multiple long deployments over a short period of time -- as so many of my friends here Down Range have endured -- are particularly rough in that regard.

My condolences to Mike and to Kathryn.

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

View My Milblogging.com Profile

Libiamo? Non libiamo?

General Order 1B (pronounced "one - bravo" in Army-speak) prohibits the consumption of alcohol over here Down Range. It prohibits a lot of other stuff, too, but that's not the point of this blog post. U.S. personnel -- even contractors -- are not supposed to be drinking alcohol.

Coalition partners (Japanese, French, Italians, etc., when here) have been free to do as they please, however.

But U.S. personnel must eschew the fruit of the vine or bine.

(Now *there's* a word for you. [Disclaimer: I've been accused by Fr. Tom W of Oakland, CA of being easily distracted by sparkly things. Warning: Here comes a 'sparkly'.] When I was young -- but still curmudgeonly, I'm told -- I majored in music and biology in college, and my focus for the biology major was botany and mycology. I guess that should be *foci* then, rather than just *focus*, shouldn't it?

(If I'm not careful, this could devolve into something akin to the old Monty Python routine about nobody expecting the Spanish Inquisition.... [look it up])

Anyway, a vine is a plant that climbs by means of suckers or tendrils (think grape: Vitis vinifera) while a bine is a plant that climbs by its shoots growing in a helical fashion around what supports it (think hop: Humulus lupulus). Bines have a characteristic left-ward or right-ward spiral growth pattern, irrespective of where on earth they grow. Hop plants, for example, always exhibit a clockwise growth.

And while we're on the subject of Humulus lupulus, hops are members of the plant family Cannabaceae, which also includes the genus Cannabis....

Aren't fun facts to know and tell, well, fun?

Here endeth the lesson.)

The eschewing of the fruit of the vine or bine, except during the Super Bowl, when personnel Down Range (where I live, in any case) are permitted two beers, appears to be a rather large sacrifice for many.

I'm not sure whether having "near-beer" in the DFAC helps. I've never tried one, and don't plan on ever doing so, one near-beer-less day at a time. I figure my 'broken brain' would perform the following intricate and complicated mental calculus: Drink the real thing.

So I just avoid the stuff altogether.

Somewhat to my surprise, it turns out that the 'real thing' is easily attainable over here (I'm told), and more than a few military personnel and civilians have run afoul of General Order 1B in this regard.

Given the kind of friends I hang out with over here, I've met quite a number of them.

One young man has been chaptered out of the Army for drinking over here, and is awaiting his return trip home. Just a couple of days ago I met another young Soldier who lost his stripes because of his drinking -- over here. Another friend mentioned one of his civilian co-workers who was sent back to the States because KBR found a bottle of whiskey in his stuff.

And on and on.

Who knew?

Before coming Down Range, when it seems as though SFC non-McG and I were headed north from where we wound up, I contacted personnel at that base to try to find out whatever I could that might be of use as we prepared to deploy. I even went so far as to get a special email account through the Army, which I could only access by going to a locked room on an Army Reserve post not far from my home of record.

I did this because my point of contact Down Range essentially said, "we can't tell you anything over regular email; we can only use this super-duper system to communicate information to you." But after having gone to the trouble of getting the account, and somewhere to use it, almost every one of my rather benign questions still went unanswered.

It wasn't as though I had asked for the nuclear launch codes.

I just wanted to know how many Catholics might be present at the base we had been told we'd be sent to, and that sort of thing. My points of contact (POCs) seemed to act as if they were involved in 'black OPS' or something, rather than in staffing a chapel on a huge military post.

Odd.

The only question that was answered, sort of, was whether they knew if there were any AA meetings on post. (I figured that since so many of my friends for the past almost 30 years have been helped by going to those meetings, I might as well find out if any were available Down Range.) The answer I received from my POCs -- who'd been there almost a year at that point, running a chapel -- was, "We don't know. But since drinking alcohol isn't permitted, why would this even be a concern?"

Why indeed?

Sigh.

I need a drink!

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

View My Milblogging.com Profile

Terror in the DFAC!!

I've been wanting to write something sensationalist like that for a while. The opportunity never presented itself until now.

Kind of a catchy title, eh?

Of course, there was no "terror" in the DFAC, except perhaps for one entree which defied description and went uneaten (by me, anyway).

We did have a fire in the kitchen, it seems, however.

SFC McG and I had sauntered over to the DFAC for an early supper. I was going to meet up afterward with some friends who go to a lot of AA meetings, and then SFC McG and I were going to drive to a distant part of the post so I could celebrate Mass for the Ugandan workers who live there. We had already finished eating and were actually just sitting around yakking and watching personnel enter the dining facility when it happened.

All of a sudden there was a great commotion coming from behind us. Lots of shouting. Lots of chairs making noise scraping the floor. More shouting. Much confusion.

People began surging toward the exits -- including the emergency exits -- so SFC McG and I collected up our trays and moved into the throng, having no real clue as to what was going on.

"Well, I guess that's dinner," said SFC McG sagely.

We later heard that the DFAC opened up again about 10 minutes after we'd left. As I was walking to meet up with my friends who go to AA and Al-Anon meetings, I saw the firefighters on the roof over the kitchen, and stopped to shoot a few photos. At least six emergency vehicles responded to the incident. (Note the rather ironic sign in the foreground; click to enlarge.)

Pastry in an oven had caught fire.

Terror in the DFAC!!!!

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

View My Milblogging.com Profile

Deep thoughts

I was leaving the building after midnight a while ago, and my young Corporal friend (soon to be a Sergeant; see an earlier blog post) and his crew were on duty. CPL G called out to me, "Hey Chaplain, why doesn't the Bible mention dinosaurs?"

The three of them and I had a long conversation, which meant I got to bed more than an hour later than I'd imagined.

Deep thoughts after a long mission outside the wire.

I just love those guys!

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

View My Milblogging.com Profile

300

I just realized that today is day 300 since arriving in theater.

Unlike many here, I've not been counting down (or up) the days. Rather, I've consciously chosen just to take things one day at a time. For some reason, the days seem to pass faster that way.

Friends who go to lots of AA and Al-Anon meetings tell me often that they're "doing the next right thing," which seems to be related to taking life a day at a time.

Over the course of these 300 days, SFC McG and I have completed well over 100 combat missions (sounds weird to refer to a trip somewhere to say Mass as "a combat mission" but all the firepower which accompanies us seems to bear that out....). There are lots of personnel who work in the building where we have our office who have not yet been 'outside the wire' since they arrived here.

I'm grateful for the opportunity to serve.

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

View My Milblogging.com Profile

Omnia mors perimit et nulli miseretur

Four years ago yesterday my good friend Saffar -- E-5 Sergeant, RANGER, RAKKASAN, Forward Observer -- (who'd adopted me as his dad) found out that his cancer was inoperable, and that he had a month to live. It was the day before his 28th birthday.

I arrived in Dayton the evening of his birthday, not knowing what had happened, but just having felt for some reason that I needed to be there to celebrate that occasion with him and Kristen. They were planning on being married the following October, and expected me to do the wedding.

How we were going to work that out was not yet clear, seeing as neither was baptized, let alone a Catholic. But that sort of thing never stopped Saffar.

The next morning, Saturday, Saffar and I went for a long walk with the dog, and he finally got around to telling me that he and Kristen had been to the oncologist on Thursday, and that he'd been given a death sentence, essentially.

I knew his cancer had come back after an almost two-year-long remission, but wasn't prepared for the finality of the diagnosis and prognosis. And on his 28th birthday.

Much to my surprise, as we stood there on the street somewhere in Oakwood, surrounded by manicured lawns and spring flowers in carefully-tended front yards, Saffar told me, "I'm not afraid, because I know God loves me."

Five years earlier, when Saffar and I met, there's no way he would ever have said those words, or even wanted to. It was breathtaking, and an answer to silent prayers.

Some months after his initial diagnosis and after I'd flown from California to Ohio to take him to his chemotherapy appointment one Friday (everybody else who'd been doing it was unavailable), I told him flat-out that his RANGER Creed was great as far as it went, but it wasn't enough in the face of what almost certain lay ahead for him.

After telling him what's (who's!) helped me during times of difficulty, I encouraged him to develop a relationship with a Higher Power, however that played itself out. I told him I'd continue to love and support him no matter what, and that I'd never bring up the topic again. I'd resolved not to hector him about things spiritual, given who we both were.

I kept my promise.

And without my badgering or thumping or fire-and-brimstoning, he came to a spiritual place that eventually even brought him into a community of believers through baptism. Go figure.

In typical "RANGER Saffar" fashion, having been given a month to live, he lived eight months and two days. He was a Forward Observer to the end, showing the rest of us the way through danger to safety.

I miss him.

While here in Iraq I've carried around an E-5 Sergeant's pin-on rank, to remind me of Saffar. (That's the rank he came to ROTC with as he was attempting to go 'green-to-gold' in moving from Enlisted to Officer.) It's pretty beat-up, but that's not surprising for an NCO who leads from the front.

One of my young friends here recently went before the Promotion Board in his effort to move from Corporal to Sergeant. He's a wonderful young man, with two combat deployments already (and who's only seen his four-year-old daughter for a small fraction of her life, and barely knows his almost year-old son).

He works the night shift, and I find myself staying late in the office so that I leave after midnight, which enables me to see him and his small crew as I'm leaving. They're all great young Soldiers, and much too often I'll wind up chatting and laughing with them for an hour or more (when I ought to be in my CHU sleeping).

I got up early one morning recently (after having been late in the office and then later talking with those guys), so I could show up at the place the Promotion Board was meeting, in support of the young Corporal. It's gotten very hot here again, and though it was early, it was already uncomfortably warm.

I was just in my Army Combat Uniform (ACUs), but he also had his full battle-rattle on, including the body armor, Kevlar helmet, DAPs (deltoid arm protectors -- think Kevlar hockey shoulder pads), a Camelbak filled with water, his weapon, and a combat load of ammunition.

I don't know how these Soldiers do it, day after day.

I found out the next night that he'd passed his board, and will be promoted, probably on 01JUL09. Bummer for me, because I'd wanted to see him get promoted, but I'll miss that by about a week.

After this deployment, he wants to go to RANGER school, and has already managed to get himself set up to make that happen upon his redeployment at the end of this combat tour.

Two nights ago, as I was leaving the office, I gave him the Sergeant's insignia I'd had with me to remind me of Saffar.

Happy 32nd Birthday, Saffar!

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

View My Milblogging.com Profile

Let the rain come

My friend Cina, who's been a good friend since the early '90s, but whom I've not seen in quite some time since she moved East a while ago, has been a faithful reader of my blog, as it turns out. She's living in an assisted-living community these days, and as is their wont on holidays, they had an ecumenical prayer service yesterday on the occasion of Memorial Day.

She sent me a prayer by Rabbi Harold ("When Bad Things Happen To Good People") Kushner they prayed during the service.

It's worth sharing (and praying!):

Prayer for the World

Let the rain come and wash away the ancient grudges,
The bitter hatreds held and nurtured over generations.
Let the rain wash away the memory of the hurt, the neglect.
Then let the sun come out and fill the sky with rainbows.
Let the warmth of the sun heal us wherever we are broken.
Let it burn away the fog so that we can see each other clearly.
So that we can see beyond the labels,
beyond accents, gender or skin color.
Let the warmth and brightness of the sun melt our selfishness.
So that we can share the joys and feel the sorrows of our neighbors.
And let the light of the sun be so strong
That we will see all people as our neighbors.
Let the earth, nourished by the rain,
Bring forth flowers to surround us with beauty.
And let the mountains teach our hearts to reach upward to heaven.
Amen.

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

View My Milblogging.com Profile

A Memorial Day Vignette

One of the Army priests I've met along the way since I joined the military 2.5 years ago has been deployed three times to Iraq to date.

His ministry during an earlier deployment took him around the battlespace, but under much more dangerous conditions than I've faced during my time here.

He has a photo of himself with the personnel who attended the Christmas Mass he celebrated at one of the sites he visited when he could get there. Everybody in the photo -- including him -- was pretty grimy and haggard. He has another photo from the same base, taken after Easter Mass, but with a much smaller group of men -- less than half.

Later, some Chaplain from echelons above reality, who'd been looking at the attendance numbers for my friend's services, adopted a rather imperious and supercilious attitude and wanted to know, accusingly, why the numbers of personnel at his Masses had fallen off sharply.

The implication, it seemed to my friend, was that he was saying or doing something that was 'turning off' the worshippers, so that they just weren't coming to services anymore. This is not unheard-of, unfortunately, even during my time here Down Range.

But it was definitely not the case with my friend and his buddies.

"They're not coming anymore because they're all dead, Sir."

Amid all the Memorial Day 'sales blowouts' and sporting events, let's not forget what it's really about.

I especially salute the heroism and sacrifice of SPC Michael C. Balsley and CPT Matthew C. Mattingly -- and their loved ones -- on this Memorial Day.

Missed but not forgotten, absent but not lost.

Requiescant in pace.

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

View My Milblogging.com Profile

Iris

It's gotten really hot rather quickly here -- it was 119 degrees Fahrenheit in the sun around 1700 hours (5 p.m.) yesterday afternoon.

What few wild flowers have managed to survive until now won't last much longer.

It's brutal.

I saw lots and lots of Soldiers moving around wearing their full battle-rattle, in the midst of the heat of the day. Because I didn't go outside the wire yesterday, I didn't even touch my body armor, let alone put it on and go outside.

Just imagine having to move around the battlespace in a Bradley Fighting Vehicle on a day like yesterday, or be out on a foot patrol, or stand guard -- in all that gear.

Count your blessings!

I do.

Now that spring has sprung a leak and completely deflated, I realized I didn't see (or smell) a single iris this spring -- probably for the first time in my life.

I'm not sure why I love irises so much. Maybe it's because by the time they're blooming in Michigan, there's no way we'd be getting any more snow!

In any event, I found myself missing them yesterday, so I hunted up some photos I've taken over the years, to remind me of their intricate beauty.

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

View My Milblogging.com Profile

Many gifts

There are many gifts, but the same Spirit....

Last night the choir that sings at both the Saturday night and Sunday morning Masses here on Post participated in a choir concert at the largest chapel building in these parts. The room was pretty much filled with people, many of whom participated in some fashion or other.

There were eleven performances in all. Our choir was fifth, so pretty much right in the middle.

The emcee made it clear in her remarks at the beginning that the evening was about praise and worship and not about competition, but I still think of it as a "Battle of the Bands."

In terms of sheer volume, we lost. Hands down.

Because I wind up presiding at Mass whenever the choir is singing, I don't sing with them as part of their ensemble, but rather as a member of the congregation. Earlier this week I received several emails from choir members asking me if I'd come sing with them at this event, even though I'd not been practicing with them.

I showed up in enough time to run through each of the two songs, twice, with them before the program began. I'd planned on sitting with the choir, right about in the middle of the very large room, but as I was about to take my seat, a very eager and helpful Warrant Officer asked me to sit up front. "We're asking the pastors to sit in the first row," he said.

Right next to some very large speakers, pointed directly at my right ear.

There are some very important and noticeable differences between liturgical and non-liturgical worship traditions, of which I've been very aware for many years now. Last night I discovered -- or at least appreciated much more fully than ever before -- another.

Each of the other choirs participating in the praise and worship celebration represented a community which prays non-liturgically. Each of those choirs -- save perhaps the International Ugandan Choir -- expressed their praise and worship as loudly as they could, made even more impressive by the very large and efficient speakers pointed directly at my ear canal.

The music was spirited and joyful. The praise dance teams that performed were impressive and moved many to tears. It was a powerful worship experience.

The International Ugandan Choir performed two pieces, one of which had been written by their musical director. Because the choristers sang in their local language, I couldn't understand any of their words, but the lilt of the tunes and the obvious and genuine pleasure the singers expressed through their voices and movements communicated all that was necessary.

If I'd not been directly in the path of the speaker system, I suspect I'd have felt more drawn in to the celebration. I've not been exposed to music of that decibel level for so long (two hours) since I was in college and went to a Supertramp concert in Washington, DC in the spring of 1977.

Next time I'll be sure to decline the invitation to move up to the front, so as to be well clear of the speaker system.

Or I'll bring along my combat earplugs as we make a joyful noise unto the Lord.

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

View My Milblogging.com Profile

Cleanliness is next to....

As I was on my way to meet with a naval officer yesterday to do some pastoral counseling, the thermometer in the car indicated the temperature outside the vehicle was 42 degrees Celsius.

Now, a fun fact to know and tell is that 40 degrees Celsius is 104 degrees Fahrenheit (transpose the four and the zero, see?), so I guessed it was probably 107 degrees Fahrenheit while I was driving.

It was actually 107.6 [a favorite radio station of mine years ago, in another place, or was it 106.7?] degrees Fahrenheit, but who's counting?

It was hot.

Today is supposed to be even hotter, and we're off! Summer is a comin' in. When SFC McG and I arrived here in August, we were treated to temperatures that reached 130 degrees Fahrenheit, so all other things being equal, 107.6 is a breeze.

From a convection oven.

This of course has me thinking about staying clean, which becomes more challenging when dust is being blown everywhere, and it seems to bond chemically with sweaty human skin.

So what is it with all these Soldiers (and Airmen! -- we don't have that many Sailors living in CHUs (containerized housing units) near me) who bring a whole cosmetics department with them to the shower trailer?

I've been amazed at the number of guys who are accompanied by a backpack or bucket filled (presumably or obviously) with astringents and emollients and soaps and shampoos. Especially popular seem to be the kind of rather large oval plastic buckets that I'd only ever seen used for cleaning supplies -- as in a laundry room.

Instead of ammonia and Pine-Sol and lemon-fresh Pledge, however, these buckets bulge with conditioners and moistruizers and lanolins.

And loofahs.

What's with all the loofahs? Blue loofahs. White loofahs. Camouflage loofahs. (Camouflage???) Pink loofahs.

I use a brown face cloth. It works well. I actually have a couple of them, so one can be in the laundry while the other is attempting to detach the gunk from the atmosphere that's Bondo-ed itself to my skin.

I subscribe to the adage, if it works, don't fix it. As I said, my ordinary brown wash cloth works really well.

I've never owned a loofah, and have never had a desire to do so.

I still don't.

I'm clearly in the minority here, from what I can tell. Hardly a day seems to go by that someone hasn't left without his loofah, which then just sits there on the bench in the shower room, waiting. Accusingly.

Loofahs.

Maybe they're the 'O'Reilly factor' I keep hearing the guys talking about....

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

View My Milblogging.com Profile

Thanks, and a reminder

I have been deeply moved by the generosity of so many people who have sent cards and letters and boxes of goodies throughout this deployment.

Since I'm about a month out from redeploying (from this assignment) it's probably best not to attempt to mail me anything else, lest it experience a delay in getting here, only to find that I've gone elsewhere in the meantime.

Gosh. I just realized that I'm a month out from the end of this assignment, but I'm exactly two months out from having to report in for the train-up prior to my next deployment.

Wow.

Not a lot of dwell time, eh?

But that's nothing compared to a friend of mine over here who was telling me just two days ago that he has spent all of 13 months with his wife and children -- since 2003 -- because of constant deployments, and the months-long train-up at places like NTC (Fort Irwin) in California prior to shipping out each time.

What's wrong with *that* picture???

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

View My Milblogging.com Profile

Congratulations!

My youngest niece, Allie, is a remarkable young person. She's very bright (takes after her mom and grandmother in that regard), motivated, and hard-working. She loves animals, which is a good thing, seeing as her parents own and operate the best kennel in southern Ohio, where she loves to work with the animals.

Come to find out, she's also very spiritual.

On her own, she decided she wanted the Sacrament of Confirmation in the Catholic church, so this morning she made her Profession of Faith, and was confirmed.

I'm really bummed I couldn't be there.

I have, however, been praying for her from over here Down Range, and will continue to do so.

Congratulations, Allie!

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

View My Milblogging.com Profile

More than we can handle... (clarification)

I received the following note from my good friend, and separated-at-birth-identical-twin-in-sobriety, Susan R from California. (Susan and I got sober in the same month in the same year, in case that made no sense at all to you.)

Susan's sobriety is a thing of beauty to behold, whereas Fr. Tom W (who knows us both but loves her more) says of *my* sobriety, "Tim, your sobriety should serve as a warning to others."

I guess it's because Susan goes to lots and lots of AA meetings, or isn't a 'seething cauldron of rage' (as one of my Jesuit brothers once wrote of me), or generally wouldn't know a bad attitude if it bit here, or something....

In any event, here's what she wrote me:

It is my opinion that God doesn't send us anything at all - He is there to help us through the things that happen to us in life. The way He helps is to surround us with people like you who can support us and help us all to reframe and deal with the difficult situations we all run in to. Sometimes you are the helper, sometimes the helpee. If we surround ourselves with people willing to help, and we are willing to accept the help offered, we allow God's grace to flow. The hard part is getting past the crazy making yammering that threatens to drown out the stuff that helps. Love, Your Twin

I couldn't have said it better, but should have, so as to have avoided the confusion it engendered.

Thanks for clearing this up, Susan!

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

View My Milblogging.com Profile

Suggestions welcome

As you may have noticed, I enjoy taking photos, especially close-ups of flowers and small critters. The first digital camera I owned, a Canon PowerShot G2, did pretty well for me for about five years, until it died an untimely and unwarranted death from unknown causes.

I managed to get some pretty spectacular flower shots with that camera over the years, and in particular while on my trips to Asia.

For this combat deployment, I needed a camera, and wanted something small, so I got a Canon PowerShot SD800 IS, which has been OK (great battery life; easily-rechargeable proprietary batteries; 4GB SD memory card), but the sand and dust have done a number on it, and it's so small that it does not do well in low light situations.

Most close-up work requires good light-gathering capabilities, and this camera just doesn't cut it, to be honest.

So, before I leave for my next mobilization/deployment (no more than three weeks after I return from this one), I'm considering trying to acquire a different -- better! -- camera that would allow me to shoot the subjects that most capture my attention and imagination. My 'idiopathic benign essential tremor' really does get in the way of taking the photos I'm interested in, when the shutter speed is forced by circumstance to be slower than about 1/60 sec.

Therefore, gentle readers, I'm soliciting suggestions concerning what I ought to look at in terms of new photographic equipment. I suspect I won't have to put up with 130-degree-Fahrenheit weather and/or dust storms in Kosovo (though the winter will prove a challenge, I'm afraid -- but I suspect I won't be photographing many flowers or tiny critters under those conditions, anyway!), so I can probably consider getting a more substantial camera body, and perhaps even interchangeable lenses.

If you have experience in these matters, or know someone who does, please don't hesitate to drop me a line and share your expertise!

Thanks in advance.

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

View My Milblogging.com Profile

More than we can handle

For years now, I've heard people tell me (and others) "God doesn't give us more than we can handle."

I've never felt comfortable with that statement, but haven't known why.

Until now.

A few nights ago I was in the car with my friend who was in the building last Monday when the shooting started and who goes to a lot of AA meetings, and some other friends who also go to those meetings, because I'd offered to drive them over to the other side of this very large Post so they could attend one of their meetings. My friend who narrowly survived on Monday had not yet been to a meeting since the shootings, and I figured it was the least I could do to be supportive.

As I was driving us back 'home' after they'd gone to that meeting, the others got to discussing the ordeal our friend had been through, and someone very helpfully suggested that God doesn't send us more than we can handle.

Having been through what *I'd* experienced, and having heard my friend's account of the terror of the situation, I knew instantly what was wrong with that statement.

"NO!" I practically shouted.

"That's not how it is at all!"

"God doesn't send us more than GOD can handle!"

"And that's the point of being in a recovery program, after all, right? Doesn't your Big Book say something to the effect of 'God is doing for us what we cannot do for ourselves?'"

"It's precisely situations like this that ARE too much to handle -- for us. But not for a big enough Higher Power."

There was no way I on my own could have handled even the small intersection between my life and the events in the Combat Stress Center on Monday, but I have a God who can, did, and does handle all of that, and more. My friend 'intuitively knew how to handle situations that used to baffle us' -- which resulted, I'm convinced, in others escaping with their lives too -- precisely because of his years of 'letting go, and letting God'.

God's handling of situations does NOT mean that bad stuff won't happen, however! It just means that no matter how bad the situation gets, God is not prevented from bringing life out of even the most death-dealing of situations.

God does for us what we cannot do for ourselves.

Left to my own devices, there's no way I could have done what needed doing on Monday, or moved through the psychic aftermath with honesty, vulnerability, and courage. From my perspective, at least for myself, it WAS too much for me to deal with successfully.

But it wasn't too much for God. After all, my friend did not get drunk, or engage in any other self-destructive behavior. Even though my broken brain told me Monday night as I was saying Mass that I needed to consecrate -- and consume! -- all of the wine I had in my Mass kit (which SFC McG had replenished that morning), I did not do that, nor did *I* engage in any other self-destructive behavior, either, despite being in a lot of psychic pain.

(And just so we're all on the same page, my liver doesn't know any neoscholastic theology, and would experience consecrated wine the same way it experienced unconsecrated wine!)

God never sends us more than *GOD* can deal with.

Hooray for the Higher Power!

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

View My Milblogging.com Profile

A feather in your cap....

One of my buddies, who'd been deployed over here to Iraq three times (and each of those three times brought all of his Infantrymen home alive, if a bit worse for wear), had decided he'd had enough of the Army, and left Active Duty. No one was more surprised by this turn of events than I. Of all the Soldiers I knew, I figured CPT J to be a lifer, for sure.

He and his men had been through the wringer over here, and he was pretty angry about how civilians (mostly) were (mis)managing things, so he got out.

I was pretty certain he'd not thrive if he weren't putting a uniform on, on a regular basis. He's just that kind of guy.

Sure enough, a while ago now, he mentioned to me that he'd joined a Reserve Component unit, and would be doing the "one weekend a month, two weeks in the summer" thing until his mandatory term of service was completed. It seems that friends of his who'd stayed in the Individual Ready Reserve (IRR) had already been called up and deployed, and he worked some drug deal or other whereby if he drilled on weekends with a unit, the Army promised not to deploy him for a time which will exceed the amount of time left on his contract.

He'd already been stop-lossed so the Army could send him on his third combat deployment, so this plan would keep him in uniform, but out of the pool (at least, supposedly) of Officers who will deploy in the next year or so.

Anyway, we were talking on the phone last weekend, he and I, and I'm not really sure what he was blathering on about (we both blather a lot, so that's a lot of blathering between us, and hard to keep track of), but at one point he said, of something he'd done for his unit that day, "Well, that will be a feather in my cap."

I responded with, "Or in your tar."

Now the phone connection between Down Range and Down Home is surprisingly good at times, and frustratingly bad on other occasions. CPT J thought I'd said something about a car, so he expressed some confusion and exasperation (I say some pretty off-the-wall things, a propos of nothing in particular, so his reaction was understandable and appropriate).

I managed to make clear that I had attempted an off-the-cuff pun: "Tar. As in 'tarred and feathered' -- sheesh!" (As an aside, that punishment was a particularly cruel and brutal one, and a person could die from the burns from the hot tar....)

Well, CPT J began hooting and hollering. He just thought that was the best thing since sliced bread, or something. "'That'll be a feather in you cap or a feather in your tar!' It's perfect for the Army!"

He even wrote about this on his Facebook page.

What's up with that?

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

View My Milblogging.com Profile

A visitor

Probably six weeks or so ago, while it was still reasonably cool (yesterday it was almost body temperature outside in the sun), and there was enough rain to support the flowering of the local vegetation, SFC McG noticed a butterfly that had managed to get trapped inside our office at work.

It seemed intent upon not being caught.

I respect that in a butterfly.

So I turned down the thermostat, and turned all the air conditioners on, and went back to my CHU (containerized housing unit; my upscale dumpster dwelling) for the night. As I'd figured, the office was very cool the next morning -- quite delightful, actually -- and the butterfly was pretty sluggish.

To be honest, it reminded me of myself before I got sober....

I was able to get close to it with the camera, and even to pick it up.

After I photographed it, I took it out into the bright and warm sunlight, and after a moment it swooshed up into the air and out of sight.

(The last photo shows one of these critters out in the field, as it's enjoying a wild geranium blossom.)

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

View My Milblogging.com Profile

Memorial Ceremonies

We've had memorial ceremonies for the last two days in the chapel nearest where I work.

I've sat near the back each time (I am a Catholic, after all, right?).

This has meant that I've been right near the back door on the side of the building next to which the firing party has stationed itself. At the end of the final roll call, after the name of the fallen comrade has met with silence, three times, the twenty-one gun salute is fired into the silence.

The sound of the seven rifles firing in unison is very loud through that open door immediately to my left....

Requiescant in pace. Amen.

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

View My Milblogging.com Profile

Happy Birthday, Sis!

Today is my younger sister's birthday.

Happy birthday, Sis!

I'm glad you were born.

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

View My Milblogging.com Profile

Tragedy -- addendum

One of my good friends here Down Range was in the clinic Monday as the shooting started, but was unarmed -- not a surprise on either account, and not a failure or lack of foresight on my friend's part.

This friend narrowly escaped alive.

After hearing my friend tell the story of what happened there, I believe my friend was instrumental in directing some other terrified Soldiers to safety. My friend retained as calm a demeanor as possible in the face of an armed assailant, when everyone else was unarmed.

My friend is someone who's been going to a lot of AA meetings for a while now.

It truly is a miracle (an unfortunately-trivialized word these days, but absolutely appropriate here in this context, in its true meaning) that my friend did not drink or otherwise do any self-harm in the aftermath of the horror.

Survivor guilt poisons rational thinking.

Understandable, but unhelpful in excelsis.

I had to go out by convoy on an overnight mission Monday afternoon, and needed to leave the scene of the tragedy as soon as I'd done my part. Thus my first opportunity to speak with this friend happened almost 48 hours after my friend's harrowing escape. The burden of what I had experienced at the clinic -- after the fact -- had seemed fairly heavy to me, until my friend and I spoke.

What my friend endured in that clinic after the first shots echoed through the building, and has had to shoulder in the meantime, stupifies me. My tangential contact with the situation pales in comparison. My friend intuitively knew how to handle a situation which would have baffled the rest of us -- to mangle a phrase my friends who go to a lot of AA meetings often use -- but my friend cannot yet see this.

Please, please continue to pray for my friend, and for the other survivors.

Survivor guilt poisons rational thinking.

The road ahead will be very, very difficult for them.

Thank you for all your prayers for everyone involved.

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

View My Milblogging.com Profile

Simple thanks

I'm very grateful to all who've written emails, or left messages of support here on the blog, or over at Facebook.

I am in awe of personnel who face tragic and scary and unimaginable situations day after day after day over here or in Afghanistan or wherever.

I just hope I can be of service to some of them. They truly are heroes.

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

View My Milblogging.com Profile

Hope in the desert

One of the smaller outposts that SFC McG and I visit is a place completely devoid of trees and bushes. The only plant life consists of some small weeds, and only when there's been some rain and it's not too hot.

It was a delight to be back home during R&R in January, in part because there were hills and the hills were green. There were trees all over the place. Given that I was in California, there were even flowers blooming outside, despite it being the dead of winter.

On the other hand, everything in this part of this country is stultifyingly flat. Where I live (and most of the places I visit on my trips outside the wire) everything is monochromatic grays, or maybe browns, if I'm lucky.

To be fair, there is at least water near where I live, and during the winter and spring there can be lots of green, tall grasses along the water's edge. There are even quite a number of lakes over on another part of Post, and a lot more vegetation. (Probably not a surprise that that's where the 'important' people are!) One of the chapels where I'm saying Mass on Saturday evenings these days forms its own peninsula in one of those lakes, and last weekend the sun set -- rather spectacularly -- over the water as we conducted the liturgy.

That was lovely, if a bit distracting.

I'm not sure why green and growing things have always fed my spirit, but they have, from childhood (which has actually continued for almost 53 years now, others are eager to point out to me; the bad news I guess is that I'll not get the chance to have a "second childhood" as there will have been only one...). When I see lush plant life, I smile. Surrounded by plants in the greenhouse Dad built me when I was young, I felt hopeful and safe.

Perhaps that's one reason why I love photographing flowers so much.

In any event, it will be good to leave this desert and get home in a few weeks, if all goes well!

Last month I was at the aforementioned vegetation-challenged outpost shortly after we'd had several days of rain (perhaps the last I'll see during my time here). The temperature was in the 30s (Celsius) that day (40 degrees Celsius = 104 degrees Fahrenheit), so it was actually quite humid. That hasn't happened all that often since I've been here; it's usually arid.

I noticed that someone had evidently dug up one of the wild geraniums that had appeared, and had transplanted it into a makeshift flower pot. I suspect that Soldier, like me, found the apparent lifelessness of the place to be a bit oppressive. The little plant had flowered, but by the time I arrived, it was struggling against its confinement, or at least against summer's onslaught.

The audacity of hope.

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

View My Milblogging.com Profile

Tragedy

Yesterday was a difficult day here Down Range.

I happened to be nearby to the scene of the tragedy you've probably read about online or in the print media. I suspect I will never forget what happened here, or what I experienced because of the fact of my being a Catholic priest.

All other things being equal, I also hope I never have to experience anything similar again.

Please pray for peace for all involved. Many tears have been shed already, and unfortunately, there are many more yet to be shed.

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

View My Milblogging.com Profile

A typical sunset

The sunrises and sunsets here Down Range can be quite splendid.

Recently, SFC McG and I went outside the wire via convoy so I could say Mass for the personnel there. As Mass finished and we were on our way back to the vehicles to mount up for the journey back 'home', I noticed the spectacular colors of the western sky as the sun sank below the horizon.

In this view, one can see an aerostat silhouetted against the luminous clouds, and in the foreground, in front of the ever-present blast walls, the ubiquitous porta-potties.

Ah! Where would we be without *them*?

Life is good.

Easter blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

View My Milblogging.com Profile

Flora and fauna

As you might have guessed by now, if you've been reading this blog of late, I really enjoy taking close-up photos of flowers and insects.

This particular critter really liked this flower, and hung around for quite a while, despite my own hovering around with the camera. Can you see the in-flight shot I managed, despite my tremor, and the not-so-great optics of the camera?

One day, I hope to be able to get a better instrument for taking my flower photos, which would enable me to do a much better job of capturing the exquisite detail which can only be seen through a good lens....

Easter blessings and peace to one and all,



Fr. Tim, SJ

View My Milblogging.com Profile

An Anniversary....

I'd not thought of this until now, but today is the 28th anniversary of my First Vows in the Society of Jesus.

It seems almost to have been a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away at this point....

Easter blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

View My Milblogging.com Profile

It's a grand old flag

Not long ago we had a rather famous visitor to our AO (Area of Operations), and as it turned out, before that event, preparations were made which included hanging a rather impressive US flag in the rotunda of one of the places where I celebrate Mass.

After Mass that evening, as SFC McG and I were leaving the building, we stopped in the rotunda and spoke with a couple of Soldiers who'd been at Mass. Upon seeing some other people having their photos taken in front of the flag, I asked one of those Soldiers (who shall remain nameless because of having a very recognizable last name) to snap a couple of photos of the 142d Chaplain Detachment before the flag.

You can get some idea of the grand scale of the room, and of the flag, by how tiny the two of us appear in perspective.Easter blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

View My Milblogging.com Profile

Lunacy

Last night the moon appeared to be full again.

We've been having a lot of dust in the air of late, which has played havoc with my upper respiratory system (again, still). But last night there was much less airborne crud (and no, that's certainly NOT a sly and backhanded diss of folks with wings; my friend CPT M recently graduated from that school, and I'm a bit envious, to be honest), and so the full moon was very visible, but within a hazy areola of light.

I've been very aware of the phases of the moon since arriving over here at the new moon in August, perhaps because I wind up in so many places that still practice light discipline at night. So if there's no moon to be seen, it's pretty dark.

Here at Camp Cupcake we seem not to care much about night light, so there's often a lot of it. Not that I'm complaining, mind you! I've lost count of the number of times I've stumbled at night because of the uneven terrain and/or the rocks that pass for 'gravel' when it's been really dark out.

This wouldn't be so bad, except that it seems more often than not that it's my left ankle that bears the brunt of the affront, the same ankle that I damaged during Chaplain Basic Training, and again during the First Army training we did in California in February and March of 2008.

That ankle hurts pretty much constantly these days, but as there's no podiatrist ready-to-hand (or foot, I suppose, in this case), I just make do.

Anyway, the moon was full again last night -- the tenth full moon I've witnessed here in Iraq, and probably the penultimate, if things go as planned. The temperature was warm, but not unpleasant (though I suspect I won't be able to say *that* much longer about being here!), as I walked back to the office after chow. (The meat loaf was OK, but definitely NOT as delicious as Mom's!)

Earlier last evening, I'd found myself in the company of about a half-dozen guys who go to a lot of AA meetings, none of whom seemed particularly crazed at the moment (well, other than me, I suppose). Over the past almost thirty years I have, in fact, often been with recovering alcoholics in large metropolitan areas around the time of the full moon, and quite a number of them have been pretty squirrelly to say the least.

But as I walked back in the bright but diffuse light of that full moon last night, I realized that I've not noticed a large uptick in the general craziness of this or any post during any of the full moons I've seen since I've been here.

Maybe that's because of the general lunacy of the place (or me!) to begin with....

Or maybe not.

Easter blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

View My Milblogging.com Profile

Thanks!

My good friend Steve C, who goes to a lot of AA and Al-Anon meetings all over the United States, and whom I've known since he was ten years old, recently sent me a couple of envelopes filled with medallions commonly given out at AA meetings (I'm told), so that I could share them with the AA group that meets here on the post where I live.

They've been having between six to nine people at each meeting of late, which is quite a change from last fall when I arrived here, when there was often only one person, for weeks at a time.

Many thanks to Steve and his friends in recovery for their generosity and for the reminder of sober support from the home front!

Easter blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

View My Milblogging.com Profile

A little help....

Despite the existence of General Order 1B (basically, the "Thou Shalt Nots" of Soldiers over here Down Range, one of which is, effectively, "Thou Shalt Not Drink Drunkenly (or Otherwise))," there are quite a surprising number of alcohol violations that occur over here.

I recently came to know a young man who's being chaptered out of the Army because of his alcohol violations of General Order 1B, and the anger issues consequent to imbibing spirits (to include chugging bottles of Nyquil). Evidently some 'professional' over here has branded him "antisocial" which another 'professional' -- via email -- told the young man's Commander meant the Army was really diagnosing him as a sociopath, but without using that designation.

Now I realize that I'm no psychiatrist -- nor would I want to be -- but after almost 30 years of meeting and getting to know newly-sober individuals, I'm not surprised to find out that this young man has behaved in a shockingly antisocial and very angry manner when drunk. When drunk!

Duh.

But to jump to the conclusion that he's therefore a sociopath? Sheesh. I suspect the 'professional' doesn't know very much about alcoholism, or at least hasn't followed the recovery of very many alcoholics.

Honestly!

Anyway the young man has been coming to the AA meetings on post for the last month, and according to friends of mine who go to a lot of those meetings, has been brutally honest (quite an achievement for a drunk!) and working hard at staying sober. They (and I) feel very hopeful for him, if he continues to work the program. He almost has 30 days' sobriety at this point.

Because his Commander is now spooked that he's a sociopath, there's a push to remove him from here as soon as possible. His unit is scheduled to redeploy next month. He'd like to return home with them, if possible. This would give him the added benefit of being able to continue meetings over here where alcohol is much less easily come by than back home.

It looks as though that's not going to happen, however.

So, if anybody has any AA contacts at/near Ft. Drum, New York, if you'd be so kind as to let me know, I'd very much appreciate it. My hope would be to be able to hook him up with a temporary AA sponsor (perhaps even a Soldier?) who could essentially meet him as he got off the plane, and help him get situated in AA immediately upon his return home.

He's quite concerned (with good reason) that he'll go right back to drinking once he's back in a familiar environment, and suddenly without a job, lodging, etc., and having to deal with the shame of being chaptered out of the military.

It's my understanding that a number of recovering alcoholics take a look at this blog from time to time, so if anyone's able to help with some contact information, that would be a blessing to all concerned. cptdrfrtim (a t) g m a i l (dot) c o m (You can figure it out....)

Many thanks, in advance!

Easter blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

View My Milblogging.com Profile

Monosodium glutamate (MSG)

Here's what Wikipedia has to say about monosodium glutamate:

Monosodium glutamate, also known as sodium glutamate and MSG, is a sodium salt of the non-essential amino glutamic acid. It is used as a food additive and is commonly marketed as a flavour enhancer. It has the HS code 29224220 and the E number E621. Trade names of monosodium glutamate include Ajinomoto, Vetsin, and Accent. It used to be predominantly made from wheat gluten, but is now mostly made from bacterial fermentation; it is acceptable for celiacs following a gluten-free diet.^[1][2][3][4]

Although traditional Asian cuisine had often used seaweed extract, which contains high concentrations of glutamic acid, MSG was not isolated until 1907. MSG was subsequently patented by Ajinomoto Corporation of Japan in 1909. In its pure form, it appears as a white crystalline powder; when immersed in water or saliva, it rapidly dissociates into sodium cations and glutamate anions (glutamate is the anionic form of glutamic acid, a naturally occurring amino acid).

(The last time I quoted from Wikipedia I wound up in quite a bit of trouble, so I'm hoping history won't repeat itself....)

Monosodium glutamate (MSG) seems as if it ought to be a rather odd topic of conversation on a blog written by a curmudgeonly old, irascible Army Chaplain. And indeed it is. (Though, to be fair, given my molecularneurobiologistic leanings, it might, in fact, not be such a surprise, were one to ponder the matter for any significant length of time....)

All that notwithstanding, I've been thinking about MSG since last night, however, and figured I needed to mention it here. Did you realize that in addition to representing 'monosodium glutamate', MSG also abbreviates "Master Sergeant" in the Army?

As soon as the Army cuts the orders, SFC McG will become MSG McG, since we found out yesterday that he is #1 on the promotion list to Master Sergeant. This means that in the Guard there's only one higher rank one might achieve as an Enlisted Soldier, so soon-to-be MSG McG is among the best of the best.

Since there's a slot available, he's eligible to be promoted as soon as the paperwork gets done.

I just hope the Army makes this happen while he and I are still here Down Range, so that we can have an appropriate celebration to which his myriad friends over here will be invited.

MSG McG

It has a nice ring to it.

Congratulations, my friend! (And "Mrs. MSG McG" scans even better than does "Mrs. SFC McG," so congratulations to her, too!)

Easter blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

View My Milblogging.com Profile

Close-ups

At one of the FOBs that SFC McG and I visit on a regular basis, in what used to be known as the "Triangle of Death," there's a restaurant run by a couple of 'local nationals' -- Iraqis. The Soldiers call them "Jimmy and Timmy," but I suspect those might not be their actual Iraqi names....

The food is pretty good, and fairly inexpensive, so I've taken to treating SFC McG and the Chaplain Assistant from that place to dinner when we're there. (The food in the DFAC (dining facility) is reputed to be pretty iffy; there was a massive outbreak of food poisoning earlier in the deployment of the personnel there. So far, I've not had any problems eating at that DFAC, but it just seems prudent to avoid it, given that there's an alternative recommended by the Soldiers and Airmen at that post.)

I noticed two weeks ago that either Timmy or Jimmy (presumably) had put out a number of flower pots with pansies, roses, and other flowers in front of their shop, in an effort to beautify what is otherwise a pretty drab environment. I didn't have my camera then, and so didn't get any photos. Last week we didn't eat there, so I didn't get photos, either.

This week, because of the heat, and the ease of forgetting to water those small flower pots several times per day, the flowers are looking pretty ragged, but there are still a few that were worth photographing.

Even though my tiny camera is pretty beat up now, after ten months here, and probably loaded with dust inside (which can't be a good thing), a few of the photos are quite beautiful, so I wanted to share them. I have long loved to take close-ups of flowers, and the advent of affordable digital photography made this hobby a lot more fun.

The intricacy of the floral structures, coupled with the beautiful shapes and colors found therein, always brings me to a place of deep gratitude and awe.

For you, O LORD, have made me glad by your work;
at the works of your hands I sing for joy.
How great are your works, O LORD! (NRSV: Ps 92:4-5a)

Easter blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

View My Milblogging.com Profile

Logistics, for now

Since I'll be getting two weeks off between this tour and the train-up for my next deployment, I've begun packing for the trip home.

To that end, if you're thinking about sending things, you might want to send be sure to get them to the post office prior to 21MAY09 (let's say), just to be sure I receive your largesse before I leave for home.

I suspect the Guard Soldiers I'll be with in Kosovo will want/need goodies from home (as well as, perhaps, the other U.N. peacekeepers there), so if you had had your heart set on sending something, but just never got around to it, there's still a chance. It'll just need to wait a bit.

If nothing else, it looks as though I'll get two months of "Summer Camp" in the Midwest (familiar to any of my friends from the "All For One" Battalion), instead of just the single month of hell down South last summer prior to coming Down Range (though I do have to return there before I can get home...).

'O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!'
He chortled in his joy. (Lewis Carroll, "Jabberwocky")

(It might be nice to get sweet surprises in the mail while we're at Summer Camp this summer, especially as I'll be the Chaplain to a whole Battalion, and not just to my Chaplain Assistant!)

Easter blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

View My Milblogging.com Profile

Mad Hatters

I'd mentioned a while back that SFC McG and I are now authorized to wear Stetsons, given our association with the unit we're attached to.

Several readers wrote to ask when they might see us in our new chapeaux, so while we were out and about one day recently, we took along our Guidon and our Stetsons, and had ourselves memorialized photographically in front of one of the chapels we'd visited.

It's hard to see that the center portion of the Chaplain Corps insignia on the sign behind us is the crest on our Guidon. I guess you'll just have to take my word for it....

We're also authorized gold spurs, having completed over 100 combat missions to date, but we didn't bring them along on this excursion.

Who knew?

Easter blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

View My Milblogging.com Profile

Planning for the future

As the Pastor of this "parish" that has eleven weekend Masses, some of which are scheduled at the same time, I tasked SFC McGee to come up with three courses of action to deal with the almost-certain eventuality of having just one priest overseeing the whole operation, now that it's clear that my tour over here will not be extended.

SFC McG is a whiz at plans and operations.

It makes it harder that the other priest who's here has not mastered the art of bilocation (probably because he's not a Jesuit?), which means that we won't be able to maintain the practice of having Sunday Masses occurring simultaneously in different chapels here on post. Unfortunately, then, we'll be moving the day, time, and place of some of these liturgies, but SFC McG has come up with an alternative which ought to work pretty well.

As it stands, it looks as though Fr. J will have eight weekend Masses to cover -- in addition to his regular duties as a Battalion Chaplain. He's going to be very, very busy. In one month he will have preached much more often than many other Chaplains over here who are deployed for fifteen months. He's up to it, certainly, but it will be a rigorous schedule, to be sure!

That such a large post would have only one priest some weekends says a lot about the shortage of priests in the Army. Or something.

Easter blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

View My Milblogging.com Profile