This and that....

It's been a very busy week. I'd hoped to be writing trenchant and witty aphorisms every couple of days, but that's just not who I am, I guess! In any event, I was actually "outside the wire" six of the past eight days (counting today), so that's been pretty exciting, even if fraught with lots of waiting around -- much of it while wearing body armor.

One time, when I was seated facing one of the gunners, the air coming in through the gunner's hatch was 109 degrees Fahrenheit. I only had to put up with that for a short time, but that poor kid endured it all day long during his shift.

The gunners seem pretty pleased to have a Chaplain on board, though with their helmets covering pretty much their whole head and face, and with the threshold-of-pain decibel level of the rotors and engine, I might just be engaged in wishful thinking....

It's been great to go elsewhere to do liturgy and meet folks who are living right in the midst of what's going on. Some of them really do have to put up with some great difficulties where they are, and they're doing so with dignity and good humor, from what I can tell.

I'd just be grumpy (well, grumpier), and sure that the sun is burning out, as my friend Annie L once wrote.

Shortly after I arrived here (four weeks ago yesterday -- there was a new moon again, right on cue), a young Soldier (well, given my age, they're ALL young -- even the Grand Poobahs are younger than me!) walked into our office and asked whether there were any AA meetings on post.

It turns out that I'm the 'subject matter expert' in that regard, and was able to tell him that I'd met some other Soldiers who go to meetings here Down Range, and was able to tell him when and where.

He was also looking for someone to help him in his journey of recovery and asked me if I'd do that for him. So, much to my surprise, I've wound up spending a great deal of time sharing my experience, strength, and hope with him (usually late into the evenings, like tonight, given our 12-hour-per-day work cycle), and that's proved to be a great blessing in my life.

He just celebrated 2 years being clean and sober, so I need to get hold of one of those coins my friends who go to AA talk about getting. I had a 24-hour 'chip' I'd been given at one point, so I palmed that to him at work the other day (Soldiers are given coins by commanders and senior NCOs in the same manner, it turns out), with the promise that I'd come up with a 'real' one soon.

He'd never gotten a 24-hour chip when he first started going to AA, so he told me he was pleased to get it.

It was a very difficult week, and I wound up attending my first memorial service as a result. That involved a ride that I'll elaborate upon at a later date. Please keep the Servicemembers over here in your prayers, if you'd be so kind, and if you're the praying type.

My Aunt Pat seems to be holding her own, so thank you for your prayers for her and her religious community. Aunt Loretta (not related to me by blood, but rather by intention) has put her job on hold and basically moved in to Aunt Pat's room in the hospital, so that one of her sisters is with her any time she wakes up.

Aunt Pat seems to recognize folks, and answers questions by nodding her head (the ventilator is still in, given that she has pneumonia). God definitely does for us what we cannot do for ourselves! Thanks for all your prayers for her!

It's been beastly hot this week, in addition to the blast furnace of a copter ride I mentioned earlier. On Wednesday, I think it was, the thermometer read 129 degrees Fahrenheit. That was one of the days SFC McG and I had to run around in full battle-rattle (all the body armor, plus helmet -- and gloves!) for longer than I care to remember.

The night we had a cookout to celebrate his birthday (and SFC M's birthday a couple of days later), we wound up eating outside, because it was only 102. Positively balmy.

Or perhaps we're just positively barmy....

In any event the sunrises and sunsets (and moonrises, when the moon's up) have been beautiful. Tonight the sun was a perfect orange orb glowing through the dust on the horizon -- just wonderful. I'm looking forward to the re-appearance of the moon in the next few days, because as it rises the quality of its light oozing through the dust in the air is magical.

It's really, really late now, and I have to be up fairly early. I'm missing being at home, but feeling content to be here right now, especially since my only hope of having conscious contact with a Higher Power is if I'm staying in the present moment.

Gratitude requires being in the now, as well, and I'm feeling very grateful for all the love in my life, and the new experiences being offered me.

Blessings and peace to one and all,

Fr. Tim, SJ

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An update on Aunt Pat

I spoke with my Dad last night (my time).

My Aunt's nun-Catholic friends :-) all took the day off today (your time) and gathered in her room at the hospital, to pray and to bid farewell to her as the medical staff removed her life support.

I'm led to believe it was quite a gaggle. Religious communities can be like that.

After a while, the physician arrived.

Just as the ventilator was about to be disengaged, Aunt Pat opened her eyes.

Shocked beyond description, the doc blurted out, "You must have more work to do, eh?" (I guess the doc is Canadian.)

Aunt Pat nodded.

The machines were not turned off.

I have no idea what this means for the future, but the physician was using the word, "miracle," since my aunt's brain aneurysm had ruptured and she'd been classified as a "5" on the scale of 1 - 5. Her chances of recovery were given as around ten percent.

If nothing else, this is probably a good indicator that a room full of religious women is a loving spiritual force not to be trifled with.

But I've known that for years now.

Please keep the prayers coming, folks!

Blessings and peace to one and all,

Fr. Tim, SJ

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Poetry commotion

It's very, very late here, but this couldn't wait.

One of my very closest friends these days is a very wise woman named Dorothea. (How fitting that her name, from the Greek, speaks of God's gift!) She and I met at church a long while ago now, probably because I had been saying outrageous things while wearing rather over-the-top vesture and wielding a large and smoking incense pot.

She'd not been to church in quite a while, and discovered she was welcomed back, and welcome to be back, much to her surprise and consternation.

Dorothea is a wonderful poet, who has been gifting me with the fruits of her artistic labors for lo these many years now. How I've envied her wordsmithery [if it's not a word, it ought to be]! Oh to be able to tell truths economically! To communicate richness of meaning through poverty of words!

That's Dorothea. Don't get me wrong: She can write prose beautifully, but it's her poetry that captures my attention and leaves me breathless with delight and surprise and gratitude.

She's been through the wringer -- more than most of my other friends (who, being recovering addicts for the most part, have amazing stories to tell) -- and the crucible of that suffering has somehow refined her ability to connect words one to another.

I'm in awe of her artistic accomplishments, and have felt inadequate in the face of them.

So it was with great trepidation this morning that I sent *her* a poem. To the one who sends *me* poems.

I'd been wanting to do it for a long time, but never felt adequate to the desire.

SFC McG and I arrived here Down Range and I noticed that first night how bright the stars were, and not just because there wasn't a lot of light pollution as there is in the States. There was no moon. It was the new moon.

Over the course of our time here, I've been noticing (when the dust isn't too bad!) the moon waxing full. It's been beautiful. Compelling. Easy to see how the ancients would worship it as divine.

It's now waning again, marking the passage of time, as it does.

I'd been wondering what to say about all that, until this morning. This is what I came up with:

A Full Moon in Iraq

We arrived at the new moon,
the night sky as dark
as my ignorance,
naïveté, and
fears.

Almost
imperceptibly,
the evening light
returned to illumine
the heavens and my soul.

I sent it off to Dorothea, who's in the hospital, and once again in a lot of pain. (Please remember Dorothea and her husband Mike (it's his birthday in a couple of days) in your prayers, if you're the type to do that sort of thing.)

I really agonized over sending it, but I figured when I've been to other places and attempted to speak the local language, people often seemed to appreciate the effort, even if/as I was making a fool of myself.

So I figured I'd try to speak Dorothea's language even if/as I was making a fool of myself.

Love is like that sometimes, isn't it?

Tonight, after being in the office most of the day (and until 2330) -- even though it was my day off! -- I found a note back from Dorothea that took my breath away. Here's what she wrote:

I met you in the light
Of Easter morning.
My days have been
Illuminated, mostly,
Ever since.

How wonderful that when things seem a bit bleak, and my thread in the warp and woof of life feels incredibly fragile and inconsequential, as it has felt here, I'm reminded so simply, so economically, and so beautifully of what's true.

Love is definitely like that.

God is love.


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Blessings and peace to one and all,

Fr. Tim, SJ

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Aunt Pat

My Dad sent me a note last night saying that his sister, my Aunt Pat, was found on the floor of her bedroom by the other nuns in her community yesterday morning. She appears to have had a brain aneurysm which ruptured. I spoke with my family earlier today, and they'd had no other news.

Please keep Aunt Pat, my Dad, and their sister Mary Ann in your prayers, as well as the sisters in my Aunt's community, if you will. Many thanks.

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

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Catarrh

Cattarh.

And I don't mean Qatar.

It started a couple of days ago with a cough that rapidly became emphysematic. It was surely the consumption. Or a brain tumor.

I kept expecting Musetta, Rodolfo, and Colline to show up to sing tragic arias as I lost what little strength was left.

(Have you ever wondered why, in "La Boheme," if Mimi is dying of tuberculosis, her friends encourage her to *sing* when she has trouble even breathing? I mean, what's up with *that*?)

My boss suggested I go to the Troop Medical Clinic (TMC).

I demurred.

After all, if SFC McG can get through this on his own, I surely can!

It then moved into a sore throat. Not just any little annoyance, but the kind that leaves one cursing the world for having salivary glands in the first place. The kind that has one wondering if someone needs to come up with a Preparation H for the *upper* digestive tract.

MSG A, the NCOIC (non-commissioned officer in charge) of the Chaplain Cell here, took me to see the folks in the Division Surgeon's section. The doc who was there gave me some Cepacol.

The problem with Cepacol is that you have to put it in your mouth in order to get it to work. Isn't that a design flaw, when the problem is stuff in one's mouth going down the throat in the first place?

By the way, the doc who saw me is a psychiatrist.

No comments, please.

The sore throat is actually better, but now I'm down for the count at the moment with a sinus crud that had my face feeling as though it would explode at any moment last night. As if each movement of my head might result in the fate of the nefarious businessman in "Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade," just before the ancient Knight observes drily, "He chose.... poorly."

No over-the-counter medications on hand.

No sleep, either.

I surrendered this morning and went to the TMC.

They gave me some stuff to take, but I was secretly hoping there was something they could lance, like my eyeballs, just to relieve the pressure, and give me some immediate relief. Alas! That was not to be.

Now the headache has moved more globally, and the floodgates of my nostrils only open occasionally, but still with exudate that makes my microbiologist's heart flutter. However, that seems to happen without warning, and with great urgency.

As an aside, it's amazing how raw skin can become from having to use 'facial quality tissue.' The stuff here must have microscopic barbs engineered into it. (There are many uses for this 'tissue' -- think about it.)

Yet, there's never enough of it around when it's needed. How does that work?

My boss ordered me to go back to my CHU this morning, so once the folks who process the paperwork I do got their stuff done (I think they were all off watching the Olympics, it took them so long), I went to lunch with SFC McG and then came back here for a nap.

It's now time for dinner.

Naps are a very spiritual experience.

But all in all, I'd rather be in Qatar....

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

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Milestones and millstone

Today is my friend Fr. Tom W's thirty-second sober birthday. Hooray for the Higher Power! What a miracle of God's grace! And what a blessing that he's been able to share that sobriety and his journey of recovery with so many people for so long now.

It's because of Tom that I have given over 100 weekend retreats for folks recovering from addictions over the past seventeen years. I spent five months with him during my last year of priest-school, running around the country learning how to do what he does.

Though it often felt like a junket, it was an opportunity to apprentice with a master, with the best of the best. Hanging out at Stinson Beach so much of the time when we weren't on the road didn't hurt, however!

Through Tom I've met many of the folks who've become my closest friends: Susan R, Bobette, Karin, Glenn L, Msgr. Terry, Owen, Gary, Terry O, Jim H, Mary C, Steve L, Cormac B, Kevin T, Bert W, Patricia F, Brian B -- and too many more to mention this late at night when I need to get to sleep!

I never knew that so many people didn't have last names! Go figure.

It was Tom who first said to me, as we were on the road from the Bay Area to Seattle (he was going there for AA's fifty-fifth birthday party): "You should have known that your God is too small, Tim. Your God hates all the same people *you* do!"

[As an aside, I *hate* it when people tell me, with great unctuousness, 'you should have known'....] Boy, did I want to strangle him. But he was driving, and I figured that might be counterproductive.

But, boy, was he correct!!

Since that time, then, I've put my God on a strenuous conditioning program. Steroids, too. And it's worked!

My God, as I've alluded to in earlier posts is very, very, very big these days, and getting bigger by the nanosecond.

That's a good thing, especially on days like today when I learned that one of my colleagues in the Biology Department at my first college-teaching gig was struck by a car while he was riding his bicycle and killed yesterday. He was just a few years older than me.

I'd not seen Miles in about eight years, but found myself deeply saddened. How I wish I could be there to grieve with his beautiful wife Peggy and their two children! So much powerlessness!

But a very, very, very big -- and constantly getting bigger -- Higher Power remains able to bring life even out of the most death-dealing of circumstances. Cold comfort in the midst of immediate, shocking loss, but a comfort that warms and soothes, eventually.

I'm glad too, for a really big God in my life when I find out once again, as I did over the weekend, that I've managed to vex, annoy, irk, pester, disturb, or otherwise flummox Important People who don't like that sort of thing. Think wimpled women singing about Julie Andrews' Maria Soon-to-be-von Trapp in the Abbey, I guess.

Sigh.

I suspect it's quite similar to a situation (though not as intentional) from a while ago which led to four (count 'em) Important People at Summer Camp - South earlier in my present sojourn to exclaim, one by one, at different times, "So! *You're* the one!"

I say again: Sigh.

Well, it's late here now (I was actually out and about doing priest-things!) and I've got to be up early. Happy Birthday, Tom! You're a gift.

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

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SFC McG's Birthday

I just realized that SFC McG has a birthday next week, so if you wanted to drop him a birthday card (hint, hint) c/o me, and you don't have my snail-mail address, just write me at cptdrfrtim a t gmail d o t com (you know how to put that together; I'm trying to avoid spambots scavenging my address!), and I'll email it to you.

Just put "SFC McG" in the lower left corner of the envelopeyou then send via snail-mail, and I'll see that he opens it.

His presence here with me is a blessing beyond measure.

I suspect it's really difficult for him to be away from his family, and being surprised by cards from folks he doesn't even know might help.

Thanks!

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

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Dependencies

One day this past week the water died while I was in the shower, and then the power went out when I got back to my CHU (containerized housing unit). I was soapy and it was 114 degrees out.

The next day SFC McG and I were at another base, and the dust in the air prevented the helicopters from coming back to get us, so we wound up being there 72 hours, rather than just four.

I, of course, had not packed an overnight bag. It's well over 100 degrees during the day, and only gets down to the high 80s or low 90s at night. No change of clothes.

Do the math.

It didn't help that the reception we received from certain Officer-types was less than gracious. (Rudeness is so last-year, but they seem not to have gotten the memo.)

However, two Junior Enlisted took as good care of us as they could, given their low-rung occupancy in the feeding chain. They embodied the Army Value of "selfless service" and I'm very grateful for their kindnesses.

(Again I found myself wishing there'd been a way to do this Chaplain thing as an Enlisted...)

In any event, I've had lots of time to reflect up the various dependencies in my life these days: water for showering, electricity for air conditioning, good weather for getting "home" when I've been able to get outside the wire, the kindness of strangers (that'd make a good line for a work of great literature, eh?).

And let's not even speak of this stupid internet connection ($65/month) that's so slow it can take me an hour to download one email message if it includes an attachment!

Dependencies.

My life is more or less unmanageable depending upon how I deal with the various dependencies in it. Fortunately, over the years, I've known many friends who go to lots of AA and Al-Anon and other 12-Step meetings, and across-the-board they've told me that the most effective way to deal with a dependency is to admit it, accept it, and work a spiritual program surrounding it.

That plan of action certainly seems to work well concerning dependencies on alcohol and other mood-altering chemicals and behaviors. Friends who go to Al-Anon meetings have told me that same plan can work when dealing with other, non-life-threatening dependencies as well.

Go figure.

So when the water stops flowing in the shower, or the air conditioner in the CHU stops working and it's 114 degrees out and the CHU heats up like a convection oven (in about as much time), or the aircraft aren't picking us up (but they are flying others to where *they* need/want to go) and it's the third day without putting on clean clothes, or the internet connection simply refuses to connect with the mail server for the eleventy-seventh time, it's time to recognize the dependency for what it is, and remember that my ultimate dependency is upon a Higher Power who cares for me and is lacking none of the essential skill sets necessary to deal with whatever mess I've gotten myself into now.

Rather than throwing temper tantrums (despite how satisfying they can be, in some perverse way) and choosing to have a bad day/week /month/lifetime because of how wronged/put-upon/victimized I am, I can choose to believe that my Higher Power can handle the situation, and that I deserve better than to add more unmanageability into the mix than is already there.

I eventually rinsed the soap off, the air conditioning came back on, we got back "home," and I got a shower and some clean clothes.

The internet is still crappy, however.

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

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Outside the Wire

I've actually been able to get off post since my last update -- several times, in fact.

Not that I've done much in the way of ordained ministry things (SFC McG and I have been traveling with another UMT (unit ministry team), and the priest in that team is doing all the "priest-stuff"), but at least we've been out of the office, and out meeting people in other places!

We had a LOT of people at Mass last night, and then I was able to stay for about 45 minutes to chat with the folks who are in the RCIA (Rite for Christian Initiation of Adults) program at this place. A very spirit-filled and spirited worship experience, compared to others since I have been on Active Duty.

Getting outside the wire and back has been an experience, too. It would be really fun, actually, except for the whole people-with-
big-weapons-locked-and-loaded-pointed-out-of-the-windows thing. That of course leads one to believe that there might be other people with big weapons locked and loaded and pointed at us.... That thought has definitely crossed my mind as we've been moving.

Since going outside the wire, I've had the experience of hearing a siren go off, and the loudspeaker proclaim "incoming, incoming, incoming."

No boom, though.

I was grateful.

At the moment there's so much sand in the air we're trapped where we wound up last night (I *knew* I should have brought a bag with me!). No telling when (or by what means) we'll get back.

I'll keep you posted.

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

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Pebbles

I'm here a week now, as of this afternoon. In that time I've presided at no Masses, heard no confessions, led no prayer sessions, done no Bible studies -- in short, I've not done anything remotely looking like what I as a priest am accustomed to doing.

Instead, I've been sitting at a desk a lot, looking at computer screens, and wandering around from the CHUs (containerized housing units -- think of it as me living in an industrial-sized dumpster with a door and a window mostly covered with ratty duct tape, but with an air conditioner that works) to the office, to the DFAC (the dining facility), to the latrines (the ones in the dumpster-like buildings are preferable to the porta-potties), to the shower facility (another dumpster-building).

There's gravel almost everywhere.

Lots and lots of gravel -- quite deep in (too) many places.

When was the last time you marched along in fairly deep gravel? It crunches underfoot not unlike schlepping along in deep, really cold snow.

In this heat, it's at least as taxing, though not as cold.

I've sort of lucked out -- the shower-dumpster is just is just a few CHUs down from my CHU, and I can skirt around the margins of that building, along the space between the backs of the CHUs, and around the margins of the latrine dumpster to get some relief -- without having to endure too much gravel. I don't have to deal with quite as many of those pebbles as some others do, in their quest for "personal PMCS" (preventive maintenance checks and services). :-)

Try it in the middle of the night, wearing flip-flops (we call them 'shower shoes'). One would not dare enter either of those two aforementioned buildings without wearing foot covering of some sort, ever.

Shower shoes and gravel are not a happy combination, especially in the middle of the night. Nor after a shower, the whole point of which was to get the feet (among other things) clean.

Oh well.

Early in my life as a Jesuit I spent lots of time in the "little finger" of Michigan, at the Jesuit summer place on the shores of Grand Traverse Bay. There's very little in the way of natural, sandy beaches along the part of GTB where the Jesuits have their property. Among the gravel up there one can find Petoskey stones -- which are a fossilized coral animal from some 350 million years ago.

I find myself instinctively looking for Petoskey stones as I'm trudging along in the pebbles.

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

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Turtles

Here on post there's an irrigation canal (I suppose) that runs between the living areas (the Containerized Housing Units -- known as CHUs) and the dining facility (DFAC). There are several small bridges crossing the canal, one of which is near the DFAC.

Beneath that particular bridge there's a huge school of carp, along with more turtles than I've seen in one place, other than at a zoo. The fish hang out there because Soldiers, Sailors, Marines, and Airmen (and presumably Coasties, if we had any here) will often throw food off the bridge to them.

This is especially the case in the mornings, because the DFAC makes it really easy to feed the fish by providing cereal in individual servings, which are easily removed from the premises. Cheerios are a favorite -- presumably of the fish, too.

This morning, as SFC McG and I were leaving (at 0600) the DFAC, there was a gaggle of Soldiers on the bridge feeding the fish. One guy, with Cheerios, was rooting for the small turtles to get the proffered goodies.

More often than not, if the little turtles were able to grab a bit of cereal, some fish would come and practically bite the turtle's head off, stealing the food right out of the little one's mouth.

Life is so often like that, isn't it?

However, the Soldier rooting for the little turtles chuckled a bit and said, "Though they're not doing so well now, they do have an advantage over the fish."

He then threw the Cheerios closer and closer to the bank of the canal, with the little turtles swimming closer and closer to the edge of the water. He finally threw some of the cereal on the bank itself and smiled.

"The fish won't be able to get those, but my turtles will."

God is often like that with us, too.

I hope you find God's Cheerios on the bank of your canal today.
All rights reserved, 2008
Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

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Bait and Switch

Wikipedia defines "bait and switch" as

In retail sales, a bait and switch is a form of fraud in which the party putting forth the fraud lures in customers by advertising a product or service at an unprofitably low price, then reveals to potential customers that the advertised good is not available but that a substitute is. The goal of the bait-and-switch is to convince some buyers to purchase the substitute good as a means of avoiding disappointment over not getting the bait, or as a way to recover sunk costs expended to try to obtain the bait.

I arrived Down Range on Sunday pretty much sleep-deprived, so I told myself, "Self, I must be hallucinating. This will all seem a bad dream after I've had some sleep and can think clearly" when I was being told that my job was going to be doing paperwork that absolutely anyone else could be doing, instead of doing actual ministry with Soldiers who are in harm's way and have very little access to a Catholic priest -- which is why I signed up at age 50, with no prior service, in the first place.

Imagine, then, my reaction (remember: I'm a curmudgeon, after all) yesterday upon learning that, indeed, at least 80% of my time will be spent in an air-conditioned office doing scut-work that literally any idiot could be doing (after all, they have *me* doing it! Q.E.D.).

I'd been led to believe that there are not enough Catholic priests in the military to serve the needs of the Catholic military personnel and approved DoD civilians Down Range (true). I'd also been led to believe that my being a priest would mean that I'd be doing lots and lots of ministry with and for Soldiers and others Down Range who could not get access to Catholic sacraments (not true).

How do you spell "bait and switch"?

I'm scheduled to do only two Masses per week (one for some poobahs, mid-week, and one at a post chapel on the weekend). I'll also give a briefing each week to Soldiers getting ready to do something. I get to go to two administrative-type meetings each week. We have a morning update with the boss for a few minutes each morning. And I get to spend probably an hour (at most) each day doing the paperwork I mentioned. Sure, we put in twelve-hour days, but factor into that a trip to the gym, and a couple of trips to the dining facility, and maybe even a catnap. Clearly it's important to have a Catholic priest here doing this!

I'm told that I might occasionally be able to go "outside the wire" to do ministry, but that's not something that can be scheduled long-range.

Thank God that over the years I've had lots of friends who go to AA and Al-Anon (and other 12-Step meetings) who have taught me that by identifying the "powerlessness du jour" I can be reminded that "there is One who has all power. That One is God. May you find God now." I think those people are on to something! The first Step says, "We admitted we were powerless over alcohol, that our lives had become unmanageable." What my friends who go to Al-Anon meetings (in particular) have shared with me is that my life will be more or less unmanageable, depending upon how I deal with (or not!) the powerlessnesses I'm experiencing.

They've also taught me that my love cannot save the ones I love.

I especially hate that, to be honest.

So, I guess what's going on in this "bait and switch" is that I'm experiencing a massive amount of powerlessness, and an especially painful instance of my love not being able to even help -- let alone save -- the ones I love and am trying to serve.

Thus, I can either choose to add more unmanageability into this situation (which has more than enough, thank you very much) or not. It all depends upon my response to the powerlessness. Friends who go to 12-Step meetings say that by admitting that powerlessness, they're able to work eleven other steps on that situation, giving them a 'program for living.' They tell me it works concerning their powerlessness over alcohol, and they've found it works over any other powerlessness they identify, as well. Sounds like a plan to me.

So in the midst of feeling my spirit being stomped into the dust and gravel (there's a lot of that here, both underfoot and in the air), I've decided to surrender, recognizing that there is, indeed, One who has all power. I'm going to "get out of God's way" as my friend Gil G used to say (he died with about 30 years sober). I figure my Higher Power has all the essential skill sets necessary to bring life out of even the most death-dealing of situations, so this mess should be a no-brainer for God.

It's just going to take a lot of "acting as if" on my part, especially as I hear of bad stuff happening (as I did yesterday) -- and don't kid yourselves: there's still very bad stuff happening over here, though perhaps not as much as when it's been at its worst....

It's Tuesday morning here, and I'm off to "work".

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

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My new home... for now, anyway

I've arrived Down Range. It took about more than 36 hours (keeping mind that I don't sleep when in moving vehicles -- unless I'm driving [think about it...]).

Those of you who've been through the lovely garden spot that is the first stop in a war zone may appreciate the fact that SFC McG managed to get us out of there in 14 hours' time -- we didn't make the intermediate stop everyone has to make before winding up Down Range, even though we were told it would take an 'exception to policy letter' signed by no less than a one-star General.

No letter, but no trip to Camp B, either!

I don't know how he does it, but SFC McG works miracles. (He also seems able to sleep, anytime, anywhere, and for that, we *hate* him!)

It's now 0316 hours, and I've only have five hours of sleep tonight (on top of the very few I've had over the past four days now), but I'm wide awake. I finally managed to get signed up for wireless network access here -- $65/month -- another way to screw the Soldier/Sailor/Marine/Airman/Coastie. It's so nice to know that so many Americans 'support the troops'!

My wristwatch, which seems to give pretty accurate ambient temperature readings, reported an air temp of 117 degrees Fahrenheit yesterday upon my arrival Down Range. Sheesh.

I'll try to post more later; I'm actually hoping I can get back to sleep for a few more hours now.

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

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