Seder

A number of us gathered Monday evening as the sun was setting to celebrate Passover, as best we could.

I was not able, the day before, to sweep the area for Chametz, for example. We also only had a token piece of charred lamb bone for the table, as well.

But we lighted the candles, sang the blessing over the four cups and the matzoh, heated up our Kosher-for-Passover MRE-type entrees, prayed the rest of the prayers, and celebrated delivery from slavery and oppression.

"Let all who are hungry come and eat."

Next year, Jerusalem.

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

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Warrior Leader Course

We recently watched as the third cohort of our Soldiers graduated from Warrior Leader Course, which enables Junior Enlisted Soldiers to become Non-Commissioned Officers (NCOs). Occasionally, a Soldier will be promoted to Sergeant without having yet had the course, but can't then be promoted to Staff Sergeant without it. Given the sorry state of the economy in California at the moment, it would be much more difficult for these Soldiers to attend a course like this Stateside. WLC while on Active Duty was a golden opportunity for them.

I was glad to see a large crowd gathered in the Theater for the graduation ceremony, despite it being fairly early on a Sunday morning. The Commanding General and his Command Sergeant Major were there to present the graduates with their diplomas.

Nine members of our Battalion received their certificates at the event, though only eight of them managed to get into the 'formal' photograph afterward, for some reason.

Several of my buddies mugged for the camera, obviously having a good time, or trying (I think) to appear serious and/or intimidating.

It wasn't just the NCOs who looked to have their photos taken, either....

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

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Palmless Sunday

So this past Sunday was Palm Sunday.

We had ordered Palms for Palm Sunday through the Army Supply Service (or whatever it's called) back in January. But just to be on the safe side, the Chaplain NCOIC also ordered palms from other sources as well.

Now it's just my opinion, but I figure that was a good thing, too, because our palms for Palm Sunday -- from the Army -- arrived yesterday, the day AFTER Palm Sunday.

Thanks, Army Supply System!

The other palms got here last Thursday. Three different types, too, which was kind of nice.

Now I'm holding my breath to see whether the Easter Candle which was ordered in January gets here this week before Saturday; it's promised for Thursday....

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

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Spring is on its way!

While I was waiting after Mass on the Feast of St. Joseph to go into the Rectory for lunch, I saw the first flowers blooming outside that I've seen this year so far. There's still some snow on the ground in places, so the sight of these plants lifted my spirits greatly.

The primroses were obviously planted intentionally, while the other is just a weed that's made its way into the garden. The weed has very, very tiny flowers, but their color and structure are exquisite. I really like it, even if it is a weed.

Weediness is in the eye of the beholder, anyway.

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

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Jozefi's, again

I wrote yesterday about our trip to the Parish of St. Joseph for their celebration of the Feast of St. Joseph. After Mass, we'd intended to go to lunch at the main restaurant in town, Jozefi's, but the Pastor of the church had insisted that we stay for the meal in the Rectory, and so we did.

There was a lot of food, and it was delicious!

Before everyone else was ready to leave (they were still animatedly discussing the priest in the U.S. whose comments had gotten people in the Balkans all riled up), we excused ourselves and figuratively waddled our way down to Jozefi's Restaurant, where the proprietor, Jozefi, seemed a bit hurt that we weren't going to eat.

Since it was the Feast of St. Joseph, his patron saint, he'd planned on us eating there for free. I tried to explain to him in my very broken German that the Pastor had *insisted* that we stay for lunch, and that we were by then completely stuffed. It seemed as though he couldn't quite comprehend our refusal of his offer of hospitality.

I felt bad, but still stuffed.

Jozefi's Restaurant, like so many of the homes and shops in Albanian-speaking parts of Kosovo, flies not only the Kosovo flag, but also the Albanian flag, and the U.S. flag as well. (I've even seen a banner that consists of the Kosovo *and* U.S. flags together as one entity -- very odd, more than slightly disturbing, and something I've not yet been able to photograph.)

Each of us had a macchiato, while sitting outside on Jozefi's patio in the cool, crisp spring air.

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

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The Feast of St. Joseph

Last week SPC C and I were invited by one of the bigwigs on Post to go to a local town to their celebration of their Feast of St. Joseph. March 19 is the occasion for a big party in many European cultures, as it turns out. In the small Catholic enclave we visited, this was certainly the case!

I brought along vestments, just in case it might be possible to concelebrate the Mass.

It was.

We'd finally started having some beautiful weather, and that morning was no exception. It was a beautiful day! Lots of sunshine, and it was almost warm. Spring was definitely on its way, it seemed.

I do say, "HOOAH!"

The elevation where I live is at about 500-some meters; this town is on a hillock, and the church is at its apex, at about 840 meters or so. The views from up there were lovely. We were somewhat closer to Mount Duke in that town than we are on Post, and it dominated the horizon in that direction.

Before Mass, the Pastor insisted that we Americans plan to stay for lunch after the liturgy, despite the fact that our VIP had planned on going to lunch in the town, at the restaurant where I've enjoyed some excellent food on a few other occasions. The other priests seemed intent on this outcome as well, so we stayed for lunch.

Near the end of the Mass, the Pastor acknowledged the presence of the U.S. personnel with gratitude, and became quite choked up as he attempted, in English, to express his affection for Americans and what the United States has done in the region. That was really quite moving.

Most of the ethnic Albanians -- whether Catholic or Muslim -- with whom I've had conversations (usually through an interpreter!) over here have expressed similar sentiments. That's been very gratifying.

Lunch was served in the Rectory by the nuns who had prepared it. (I suppose one might rightly call them nun-Catholics...) The room was rather narrow and quite long, heated by a pot-bellied stove. The parts of the building we walked through were much colder than the current outdoor temperature, so the heat was welcome. As is the custom of the region, one of the first orders of business once the group was assembled was to pass around the local rakia -- from which we Americans demurred, as General Order 1 prohibits US military personnel assigned to KFOR from drinking alcohol.

I didn't much mind, to be honest, though I thought I detected a couple of rather wistful, longing glances on the faces of some of my confreres.

Besides the pastor (who'd spent a year living at a parish in Detroit), only one of the other ten local priests who showed up could speak some English. Unfortunately for me, we'd not brought along our Albanian-speaking interpreter, Mr. A. (It was a Friday, and he has Fridays off so he can worship.) We Americans were at the far end of the refectory, about to sit down, when the Pastor insisted that I move to the other end of the room, where I sat at table surrounded by the Albanian-speaking priests.

I could only pick out a few words of what they were saying now and then, as they engaged in a rather spirited conversation.

SPC C and the other guys whom I'd accompanied were at the far end of the enormously long table, and were at least able to speak English with one another. The nuns sat at that end of the table as well, and were from Croatia, so the Serbian interpreter who'd come along with us was able to understand them. Thus they all had an interesting and lively conversation, while I sat pretty much like a lump during most of my meal....

As it turns out, the priests were discussing a priest from Kosovo who'd been living in the United States for many years, whom most of them knew. That guy had engaged in some rather inflammatory rhetoric a couple two or three years ago which had been captured on video. For some reason unknown to me, the YouTube video of those comments had become suddenly 'popular' several years after the fact, and were causing quite a stir over here in Kosovo.

I found myself wishing I had had the chance to take the college-level Albanian course offered here on Post last November! (It had conflicted with the Philosophy course I taught during the Fall Semester, so I didn't sign up for it. Sigh.)

Evidently the Bishop of Kosovo dispensed the locals in that town from the Lenten proscription against meat on Fridays, because of the feast, as we had some rather yummy veal chops, in addition to the spectacular fresh vegetables, cheeses, rice, and hush-puppy-like somethings-or-other. Dessert consisted of sumptuous pastries.

The nuns who work in that parish really can cook!

Given how poor everyone is in that town (there's no work to be had, and the Catholics in that region have almost no voice in civic matters, as they're such a tiny minority of the population), it was pretty clear to me that this luncheon extravaganza clearly represented a huge monetary outlay on the part of the Pastor.

I slipped him the money I'd planned on spending on lunch for myself and the Junior Enlisted personnel in our party (since I believe they shouldn't have to pay when they're out and about on account of what Officers have decided).

Thanks, Dorothy B!

Blessings and peace to one and all,

Fr. Tim, SJ

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A special thanks

My friend Mrs. B, from California, has been supporting other friends of mine in need whom she's learned about through my blog, and I just want to take this opportunity to thank her for her generosity and love. She's helping people she's never even met, and I'm overcome by gratitude for her thoughtfulness.

I've been making a concerted effort to thank those around me for all they are and do, and today I feel very humbled by the depth and breadth of people in my life like Mrs. B, who do so much, so quietly.

May God bless you and your family, Dorothy!

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

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Can you believe it?

I found out that MSG McG (my Chaplain Assistant while I was in Iraq), who broke his ankle rather severely in an auto accident not too long ago, doesn't even have a real cast on his leg; he just has a "boot" such as what I had after my ankle surgery. It turns out he needs surgery, but without *medical* insurance, he can't get it without shelling out $1200 up front -- for starters!

Just to *consult* with a surgeon.

It seems no orthopedic surgeon will accept the *automobile* insurance he has; he can only be reimbursed after the fact.

I sure am glad the health insurance situation in this country is in such good shape that it doesn't need any overhaul!!

This angers me beyond words.

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

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Of leg of lamb and rhubarb pie

My birthday passed here without any notice, though folks back home sent cards and gifts. Many thanks to all of you!

Anyway, that night I was feeling a bit blue, so I knew the cure for that was to have dinner with some of the Soldiers in my unit. Being the Chaplain, I have a lot more latitude to just barge in on a table full of Enlisted personnel, and I like that!

So I spotted a few of my Soldiers, and went to sit with them. As usual they welcomed me graciously, and I enjoyed the meal.

It wasn't my mom's cooking, that's for sure! No roast leg of lamb with her special mint dressing (no mint-flavored apple jelly in *her* house!); no fresh-off-the-stalk Brussels sprouts; and certainly no home-made (from home-grown) rhubarb pie for dessert. (I can't wait to get home!)

But I was in good company, and felt grateful to be here and with them.

I love my job.

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

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Sunset strip

Unlike when I was in Iraq last year, during which time there were very few memorable (visible!) cloud formations -- though there was often lots and lots and lots of dust! -- we regularly have skies punctuated by large and beautiful clouds.

We recently had a late afternoon like that. Whenever beauty like that surprises me, I always find myself breathing more slowly and deeply, and feeling more gratitude. I figure there can never be enough gratitude....

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

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Schützenschnur

It's a pretty unpronounceable name, for folks who are not accustomed to speaking German. It's a rather large marksmanship badge that German Soldiers can earn, and which their Enlisted personnel can wear on their dress uniforms. (Officers can earn the badge, but are not permitted to wear it.)

Because we have German coalition partners here, several of our Officers took it upon themselves to contact a German Lieutenant Colonel to arrange for our Soldiers to be able qualify for their badge, and their Soldiers to shoot for our marksmanship badge. About a month ago now, several of our Soldiers who had qualified for the Schützenschnur were awarded their badge at a special formation.

We've been able to afford many of our Soldiers the opportunity to qualify for this badge, and they're pretty excited about it. As with the German Army, only Enlisted Soldiers in our Army can wear it, though a number of our Officers have qualified for it as well.

If you click on the photo of one of my Soldiers actually receiving his award, you can get a sense of how impressive a piece of hardware it is.

Our German friends showed up for the special formation to watch as their American counterparts were recognized for their skills with German weapons.

The word on the street here is that those guys really enjoy qualifying for our marksmanship badges, even though they're in no way as spectacular as the Schützenschnur. Supposedly, they seem to them to be reminiscent of the Iron Cross...

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

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Change

One of my buddies here was supposed to submit an article for publication, but got distracted by going home on leave. Yesterday I got a rather frantic phone call in which I was voluntold to submit the article myself, within a couple of hours' time. Since I've written about a lot of this stuff on my blog anyway, it won't be a surprise to any of my regular readers.

Here it is....

There are a lot of changes going on around us these days here at Camp Bondsteel and elsewhere. Change can lead to unhealthy stress, depending upon how well we cope with it. I suggest that a spiritual approach to that which life throws at us (or throws up on us) will lessen our stress and enable us to thrive in the midst of whatever’s going on – whether it’s yet another tweak of the Battle Rhythm or an early REFRAD. I want to share with you some simple ideas which can facilitate healthy and helpful responses to the changes which come our way.

1) When faced with a situation which leaves me anxious, afraid, or downright terrified, I ask myself, “What’s true right now?” I’m often tempted to jump to the worst possible conclusion and/or to assume that my only option involves the most dire scenario imaginable. Either of these reactions leads me to create more anxiety than is already present or warranted. This is decidedly unhelpful! By asking myself “What’s true right now?” I can avoid adding unmanageability into a situation that already has more than enough. I focus on only that which objectively exists in the present moment, and I eschew giving over my sanity and serenity to falsehoods and fantasies. If it’s not true RIGHT NOW, I’m not going to deal with it.

2) By discerning what is demonstrably true in the present moment, I can then choose to DO THE NEXT RIGHT THING. When sudden change occurs, the second- and third-order effects can leave me feeling overwhelmed and paralyzed, because so much often needs to be done in so little time. Rather than succumbing to a sense of futility and defeat, I can perform a mental triage on my predicament, and then do the next right thing. After that, I do the *next* right thing, and so on. Having an ordered response to a disordered situation calms and reassures me. This allows me to move through the change with equanimity and grace.

3) As I identify what’s true right now, and then choose to do the next right thing, I’m really just practicing what some would call, “living in the moment,” or taking things “one day at a time.” While the sentiment may strike one as quaint or trite, the living out of life in this manner pays huge dividends. Because changes can so often ‘upset our apple cart’, it’s important that we be resilient and flexible. I can endure most anything for a short amount of time, so if I’m in the midst of something particularly distressing or painful, I have found that I need to move through the experience one hour at a time, or one minute at a time, or one breath at a time. If I attempt to take on the whole of the rest of my life (however long that might or might not be), as opposed to this next breath, or minute, or day, I will work at cross-purposes to my own best interest, and debilitate my mission effectiveness. If I’m living life one day at a time, I’m less likely to be fazed by life’s vicissitudes.

4) I make plans, but don’t plan outcomes. We all know that no plan survives first contact, but even so, it’s important to make plans. It’s at least as important for me *not* to assume that everything will proceed according to my script and direction. My experience has shown me that life more often than not surprises me with eventualities I could never have envisioned. If I’ve set my heart on one particular outcome to one particular plan, I’m almost certainly dooming myself to disappointment, embarrassment, and recrimination. By staying flexible and teachable, I can roll with whatever punches are thrown, all the while staying on my feet, or at least getting back up on them quickly.

5) Related to this kind of planning is the notion that expectations are premeditated resentments. This is especially true of hidden expectations! When I have decided what someone else needs to do (for me, with me, about me, around me, etc.), and then that person does something different (or not at all), I set myself up for a whopper of a grudge. By letting go of expectations, or at least making sure that all involved parties know what everyone’s expectations are, I can reduce the otherwise inevitable hurt feelings which (hidden) expectations occasion.

As a person who’s professionally religious, I of course like to look to the Hebrew/Aramaic and Christian Scriptures for hints as to how to address the painful phenomenon of change. However, irrespective of one’s spiritual or religious persuasion, adopting these simple suggestions can help any one of us to stare down the change which confronts us, and ultimately belly-laugh in its face.

Give them a try!


Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

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Regis Jesuit High School

Earlier this week I received three boxes from the good folks at Regis Jesuit High School in Colorado. Inside were rather splendid, monogrammed velour blankets they had sent for my Soldiers here in Iraq.

I had just opened the first of the boxes when one of the Senior NCOs walked into my office. "Ooh, Sir! Can I have one of those?" After I gave him his choice, he then asked, "How about enough for the rest of my crew?"

The blankets are a great hit.

Thanks, Regis Jesuit! You folks truly are "men and women for others."

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

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Fire

My sister and brother-in-law's house burned to the ground yesterday, I found out last night. I can't begin to imagine the psychic and spiritual pain they're in.

They had bought another home shortly before I got home from Iraq, and I stayed there before there was much in the way of furniture, when I visited just prior to starting this deployment. All of our family meals were taken at the old house, where they'd been living for many years now.

I'm told they'd rented it out, and that everyone who was in the house at the time the fire started escaped, thank God.

But my sister and brother-in-law had left a lot of their furniture there, including some of their fine antiques. All was lost.

Mom told me that the piano which I'd bought years ago, and given to my sister's family after I joined the Jesuits, was among those items which were consumed in the blaze. Even though things are just, well, *things* and can be replaced, none the less, a forced letting-go is still difficult. I'd not really given the piano any thought for decades now, but my sister's family lived with it on a daily basis for the same amount of time.

Letting go is painful.

Thank God no one was injured.

Please remember my sister, brother-in-law, and their children in your prayers, if you'd be so kind.

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

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For the birds

One night as I was on my way somewhere or other, in the snow, I noticed delicate bird footprints ahead of me. As it was dark, I wasn't sure I could photograph them adequately with my small camera, but I attempted to get a shot anyway.


It didn't turn out well, so I decided not to try to capture the rather large gaggle of bird footprints nearby.

There must have been a lot of birds in that spot at one time.

I realized later, as I walked past that spot during the day, that the occupant of the SEA Hut nearest that place was throwing bird seed out there for them.

I'm not particularly fond of ordinary, garden-variety pigeons, but when they're in flight, and that moment is preserved photographically, they're actually quite lovely in form.


Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

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Update, of sorts

I actually don't have any further information on how MSG McG and his wife are doing since her knee surgery and his automobile accident, so I'm assuming no news is the absence of bad news.

Many thanks to all of you who have contacted me concerning their condition.

Please keep the prayers coming. I'll let you know how they're doing as I learn what's going on.

Thanks again!

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

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A nothing hill

One day in the recent past, SPC C and I readied ourselves to drive to a place we visit from time to time, figuring that since it was such a gray and snowy day, we wouldn't be able to fly up there. Much to our surprise, we got a call that we were expected at the Flight Line in about 30 minutes' time.

I grew to love flying (most of the time) when then-SFC McG and I were in Iraq, and whereas he and I had more than thirteen dozen missions via air Down Range, I'll be lucky to complete thirteen *flights* total, here. At least we're able to fly from time to time!

It's a lot easier on SPC C, since he usually does the driving, and it gives me a lot more time to spend with my Soldiers at our destination, since it takes about twenty-five minutes, versus two (or more) hours in our vehicle. Were we to go in a tactical vehicle convoy (Humvees), it would take even longer.

We'd had a fair amount of snow overnight, though as I've written elsewhere, winter here has been surprisingly mild, and snow-free (for here). I'm told that much of Western Europe has had a brutal winter, but for some reason we escaped that fate. The landscape below us was covered in snow for about two-thirds of the distance we had to traverse.

In the photo above, one can see the power plant responsible for most of the electricity in our region -- and for a significant percentage of the air pollution, I suspect. One of the helicopter's rotors can be seen at the top of the photo, as well.

Remarkably, just a few minutes' flight from the power plant there was almost no snow. Seemed rather odd at the time, actually. Situated atop the lower of the two hills are the ruins of a castle which must have had quite a view in its day -- and must have been a pain to reach! There's a large flag, representing one of the dominant ethnic groups present in multi-ethnic Kosovo, planted at the top of the other hill in the picture. I suspect those who put it there did so to annoy others...

The helicopter threaded its way through some very hilly terrain as we approached our destination, which is located on top of a small hill which is surrounded by much higher peaks. It's pretty much of a nothing hill, but that's where my guys were, so that's where we went.

It was great to spend time with them, and then fun to fly 'home'. By the time we touched down after our mission, much of the previous night's snow had disappeared.

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

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Snow and ice

The weather here has been odd, of late. It gets cold and snowy, and then it warms up a bit and rains, and the snow goes away, and then it gets cold and snowy again. Not my idea of a good time.

I'm grateful we've not had as severe a winter as we were told to expect, so don't get me wrong! I'm just not a fan of messy winters!

One morning recently I got up and it had snowed overnight. There were icicles hanging off each roof around here.

Later that night, after I returned from the mission that SPC C and I had undertaken, the snow had slid part of the way off the roof, and the icicles had multiplied and lengthened.

As I walked from my office back to my room, I glanced down a row of SEA Huts (design first used in Southeast Asia...) and noticed the U.S. flag flying about 360 meters away (just shy of a quarter of a mile).

It's good to place things in context.

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

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I live in a beautiful place

Mount Duke dominates the horizon, and can be seen from many parts of this Post.

Depending on the day, it looks very different, if it can be seen through the clouds.

Mountain tops have often been associated with spiritual places.

"Extol the LORD our God, and worship at his holy mountain; for the LORD our God is holy." (Ps 99.9)

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

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Prayers for MSG McG

I learned two nights ago that my Chaplain Assistant from Iraq, now-MSG McG, was in a head-on automobile accident that night. His car was a total loss.

From what I've found out so far, he has a broken ankle, and some other injuries, though I don't know the extent of them.  I only know that he'll be OK, eventually.

As you might remember from the post I wrote about his wife's total knee replacement, as of the first of this month, he and his wife have no medical insurance. She's been trying to rehab her knee on her own, without benefit of physical therapy, since they can't afford it.

With MSG McG unable to work for the time being (I assume), this could get really ugly, really fast, I'm afraid.

That we as a nation would let our (three-time) combat veterans face destitution like this shames us all.

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

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Social Justice

Recently some Gas Bag on the airwaves had some sort of transient ischemic attack (or something) while being filmed, and made incredibly bizarre assertions that the phrase "social justice" when used by church people means those church people are both Nazis and Communists at the same time.

Wow.

That's quite an assertion.

And completely asinine.

Last I checked, the Nazis and the Communists were on opposite sides of the Second World War.

The Great Blowhard in question demanded that his listeners immediately leave any church which dared to speak that horrible phrase, because otherwise, the CommuNazis (or is it NazCommunis?) were going to seduce them into eating their own young, or something.

Hate to break it to ya, folks, but irrespective of whether you use a "Catholic" or a "Protestant" Bible, you're still gonna find Jesus saying, in Matthew 25:

Then he will say to those on his left, 'Depart from me, you who are cursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels. For I was hungry and you gave me nothing to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink, I was a stranger and you did not invite me in, I needed clothes and you did not clothe me, I was sick and in prison and you did not look after me.'

In part based on this text (and others), for almost 120 years now (since 1891, to be precise), the Roman Catholic Church has taught officially that steps must be taken to relieve "the misery and wretchedness pressing so unjustly on the majority of the working class." Now lest Mr. Gas Bag get his anachronistic panties in a CommuNazi bunch over this, Rerum Novarum ALSO affirmed the right of private property and specifically rejected communism.

How is the right to private property a communist notion? Or a National Socialist idea? How is the specific rejection of communism a communist notion? (I suppose one might be able to argue that this latter point could, possibly, be construed as being one supported by Nazis, since they were fighting the Communists....)

Mayhaps Mr. Gone Batty's parents read him one too many stories about monsters under the bed.

In his defense, to be fair, it must be terrible living with that much fear, constantly.

These are, of course, strictly my own opinions, and do not reflect those of any other person, institution, or organization, either living or dead.

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

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Leave-taking

One of the great aspects of this deployment has been the opportunity to get "outside the gate" (we don't really have a "wire" here, in my estimation) to meet with local imams, Orthodox priests, and Roman Catholic priests. On average, SPC C and I were able to do this a couple of times per week, once we got started.

It's certainly been a very different experience from what I had in Iraq!

I've not been much of a coffee drinker over the past 30 years -- until I joined the Army. In Chaplain School, in order to stay awake during the unbelievably soporific "Death-by-PowerPoint" sessions, I began to drink caffeine again. Ugh. But I suppose it was preparing me for being here, ultimately.

Everybody here drinks coffee -- extremely thick (think the consistency of melted chocolate), and quite bitter. So most people here pour inordinate amounts of sucrose into this concoction, in order to make it more palatable. I guess the stimulative effects of the caffeine counteract the sugar-induced coma, or perhaps vice-versa.

I probably should have been keeping track of how many Euros I've spent on 'macchiatos' here -- although I'd probably be depressed if I knew the exact amount.

I figure that if I'm out visiting, then it's my job to pick up the tab for the coffee -- and the food, if we're eating a meal -- for all concerned. This is especially true if SPC C and I are out on our own; I've made it a point not to have *my* ministry cost my Chaplain Assistants money. This was true in Iraq, and it's true here.

Because of all the engagements with local religious leaders we've had, then, I've wound up dropping quite a bit of money on food and drinks!

And I've been drinking a LOT of very strong coffee, and enjoying the conversations, though speaking through an interpreter takes some getting used to. In these excursions outside the gate, I've been extremely blessed to have been able to work with Mr. A (Albanian-language interpreter) and Mr. Z (Serbian-language interpreter), who are very, very good at what they do.

Interesting that they're "A" and "Z", eh?

Anyway, a while ago I was told that as part of the change going on here, I'd have to stop meeting with these religious leaders, because others would be doing whatever talking needed doing.

Since then, I've had a lot less coffee!

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

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A birthday visit

Last night my friend Dorothea visited me.

I don't often remember dreams, but I woke up this morning remembering a very vivid encounter with her. I can't remember any dream like this one.

 With our friends Elizabeth and Mary, in July 2002.

Dorothea survived polio as a child, and the horrors of an extended hospitalization subsequent to her diagnosis. She wound up needing leg braces, but learned eventually to walk and to become an independent, strong woman.

A husband and daughter and successful career as a poet and educator later, Dorothea discovered Post-Polio Syndrome robbing her of her mobility and independence. She spent more and more time in her wheelchair, and ultimately lost any ability to walk at all.

With Mary and another friend at Disneyland, celebrating our March birthdays in April 2002.

She broke one of her legs in a couple of places, which confined her to her bed. That's where she was the last time I saw her. I was home on leave from Iraq, and drove about three hours to get to the spectacular home she and her husband had built in the foothills of the Sierra Nevada mountains.

She was in a lot of pain, and pretty grumpy, but by not buying into her attempt at self-pity, I was able to get her laughing before I left. She had a great laugh.

She died before I got home from my combat deployment.

I miss her.

A great many of my friends and relatives have died. I miss them all.

Dorothea is the only one who's come to visit me, though.

In the dream, she was still disabled, and asked me to help her move. That was quite a scene.

But then, all of a sudden, she jumped up and pirouetted in the air, landing nimbly on her feet, laughing and smiling.

Then I woke up.

Yesterday was her bithday.

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

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