An update on MRS MSG McG

I received an email note from MRS MSG McG, who had her bad knee replaced on Wednesday of this past week. She finally is home from the hospital. Thank you for your prayer support of her, my friends!

As many of you know, she's the wife of MSG McG, who was my Chaplain Assistant when we were in Iraq last year (my first time; his third -- how's that for selfless service on his part?).

A grateful nation thanks you, MSG McG!

Oh wait.

Maybe not so much.

Did I mention that MSG McG's medical benefits from the Army ran out today? Without a job that provides medical coverage, he and his wife have no more health insurance.

And she now has a "preexisting condition."

À propos of this turn of events, here's a snippet of the message MRS MSG McG sent me:

"It is really painful right now. I have to give myself shots in the stomach daily to keep my blood thinned, so I don't end up with blood clots. I know with God's help I will make it. The hardest part is with our insurance gone, I get no P.T., no in home health, nothing. Good thing I have God on my side. Please continue to keep me in your prayers."

It's so comforting to know how many of my compatriots "support the troops" while letting travesties such as this occur, isn't it?

Her husband has been to combat in Iraq THREE TIMES, and this is how we treat him and his family!

"... with our insurance gone, I get no P.T., no in home health, nothing."

Wow. I guess I'm very biased (this is, after all, just my *unofficial* opinion), perhaps because I felt so well-protected by then-SFC McG during our 169 religious support missions via air and almost four dozen via convoy when we were Down Range, so perhaps that's why this situation REALLY riles me up.

Then again, it may just be that I'm so upset about this because the simple fact that this has happened is unconscionable in excelsis. Moreover, the number of my own Soldiers who have no jobs to go home to in California, at this point -- and who may well wind up in a plight similar to that of MRS MSG McG and her husband -- frightens and saddens and angers me, so that's undoubtedly stoking the fires of my indignation at my friends' predicament.

In the interest of civility, I'd better let it go at that... and to that end I pray: "May God bless all those responsible for this injustice with every gift I could wish for myself or for those I love most."

I will say, though, that if this lack of medical coverage is the "gratitude" mustered by those who "support the troops [and their families]," I shudder to think what their ingratitude might look like!

(However, from what I'm hearing on the airwaves these days and reading in print, at least we can thank God that all those in our country who *deserve* insurance and access to medical care -- only those who can afford them -- have them, right?)

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

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Sticks and stones

Here are some more photos from our trip to the border earlier this week.

I found myself noticing the dried flowers and seeds in the vicinity of the overgrown cemetery. They seemed oddly fitting, somehow.

And also lovely in their own way.

I also noticed rocks strewn over the landscape, some of which had interesting shapes, textures, and colors.

Paying attention to things that other people probably don't really even see delights me. This may well have something to do with the sense of gratitude I always feel in the presence of unexpected and undeserved beauty.

My friends who go to a lot of AA and Al-Anon meetings tell me (constantly) that a grateful heart indicates conscious contact with a power greater than ourselves.

That works for me.

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

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Money, property, and prestige

The cemetery atop the hill overlooking the administrative boundary line continues to haunt my reflections since my arrival back to post. There are a lot of cemeteries here in Kosovo, and too many of them have too many graves from just over ten years ago.

The things we humans do to one another, and for what?

My friends who go to a lot of AA and Al-Anon meetings remind me that 'problems of money, property, and prestige' can 'divert us from our primary [spiritual] purpose'.

They also keep telling me that 'it is plain that a life which includes deep resentment leads only to futility and unhappiness'. Furthermore, 'when harboring such feelings, we shut ourselves off from the sunlight of the spirit'.

I suspect they're on to something there.

Resentment is a soul-killer.

The cemeteries throughout the Balkans clearly demonstrate the consequences of institutionalized resentment having infecting whole cultures. Problems of money, property, and prestige have wreaked death and destruction here for a long time, because, sadly, resentment measures its lifespan in centuries and millennia.

From what I've read lately, there seems to be more and more resentment becoming institutionalized in our own country, spreading like an infection throughout society. Let's hope that appropriate spiritual preventive measures can be taken before what my friends who go to a lot of AA and Al-Anon meetings tell me is true for them becomes true for the rest of us:

"But for the alcoholic, whose hope is the maintenance and growth of a spiritual experience, this business of resentment is infinitely grave. We found that it is fatal." [Alcoholics Anonymous, p. 66]

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

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O happy day!

When you see my parents this week, be sure to wish them a Happy Anniversary.

I'm glad you got married, Mom and Dad!

(That is, of course, just my unofficial position, and in no way reflects the view of any other person, entity, or institution.)

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

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The cemetery atop the hill

Next to the place from which SPC C and I gazed out over the valley I mentioned in my post yesterday was an old, but not abandoned, cemetery surrounded by a makeshift and rickety barbed-wire fence.  Some of the gravestones appeared weathered by years of wind and rain while other graves were marked by seemingly new, and highly-polished, granite headstones.

The contrast was stark.

Clearly the site was chosen so that the graves would be on the bluff looking north into the Homeland to which those living in Kosovo felt such a close connection.  The view of the valley and the small mountains across the river is breathtaking.

There is a medium-sized tree at one end of the cemetary, the bare and gnarled branches of which gave a definite Edgar Alan Poe quality to the time of day and to the place itself.

One grave, enclosed by a tilting metal fence, languished across the road from all the others, off by itself and farther away from the edge of the cliff overlooking the valley.  The small enclosure was completely overgrown with weeds, and unlike many of the other -- even old -- graves, there were no leavings of flowers and food and drink.  I decided not to photograph it.

The husband had died in 1974; he was in his 60s.  The plot for his wife  had the year of her birth etched into the granite headstone, but not the year of her death.  The digits 1 and 9 anticipated her demise before the turn of the millennium, but the other two digits had never been filled in.  Had she lived to the year 2000, she'd have been 105 years old, which is why I presume she'd been buried elsewhere.

I found myself wondering why that one grave existed apart from the rest, though I suspect I know the answer.


Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

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Valley View

SPC C and I recently traveled to a post we've visited on a number of occasions, and while there, we rode along with some of our buddies who went out on a patrol. At one point we wound up at a location that had some rather lovely views across a wide river valley.

We saw a very imposing ridge at one point, with incredibly sheer cliff-like walls dropping down into that valley. As I scanned that terrain feature, I was disappointed to see something which, unfortunately, wasn't a surprise.

See if you can spot it in the photo above -- without scanning down the page to the close-up views.

In the meantime, here's a photo of SPC C with the valley in the background.  The bridge in the photo is actually very famous.

Earlier, I'd gotten to know a couple of the medics who were at the post we were visiting.  They gave me the opportunity to practice my Italian, too.

Below are the close-ups I promised you earlier.

Did you notice all the trash that has been dumped over the edge of that ridge?  Quite a view.  It's a sad (and decidedly unlovely) reality in this part of the world.

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

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MRS MSG McG

Please remember in your prayers MRS MSG McG who had a knee replacement this week.

Thanks!

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

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More Flora

Who'd have thought that even poison ivy could be beautiful, eh?

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

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Nostalgi-Fauna

Yesterday I mentioned that I was feeling a bit nostalgic for home and the climate that allows at least some flowers to bloom outside all year.

 Today I'm thinking about the bugs I've noticed since the start of this mobilization.

Now, I grant you that Class Insecta and Class Myriapoda are a bit of an acquired taste, and that some of my photos may bug you, but hey, humor me here, won't you? They actually have a beauty all their own, if one allows oneself to see past one's prejudices.

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

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Nostalgi-Flora

One of the things I miss about California (and Iraq, for that matter) is that there are some flowers blooming outside no matter what time of year it is. Coming from the midwest as I do, I really appreciate that about a climate.

We've had a very, very mild winter here so far, and while I'm not going to complain about it, the locals with whom I've spoken are quite concerned that we've had so little snow. What accumulation we've had has been small, and has not lasted more than a week or so.

Strange.

Anyway, I've been nostalgic for flowers and recently looked back on some of the photographs I've taken since we went on Active Duty. I thought I'd share some of them with you....




Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

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A small hiatus

It looks as though I might not be able to post anything for a few days, so please bear with me, until I get internet access again, if you'd be so kind.

And to think people once thought that technology would make our lives easier, and less complex!

I blame it all on the invention of clay tablets. That "advance" in technology just led to the development of writing on papyrus, and look where *that* got us!

Humbug, I tell you!

In the meantime, talk amongst yourselves.

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

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Hospitality

 

We hosted a meeting of all the Chaplain teams throughout Kosovo recently, and as part of the schedule, we took them on a field trip to the Church of the Black Madonna after lunch.  There were German, French, Czech, Ukranian, Polish, Swedish, Slovenian, Irish, Hungarian, Italian, and American Chaplains and Chaplain Assistants participating, though not all were able to make our little excursion.

 

Our Albanian-language interpreter, Mr A (on the left), translated for us into English.  The Pastor of the parish is flanked on his right by the Chaplain who oversees us all while we're here in Kosovo.  I practiced a bit of my German when speaking with him. He and I had led the group in Morning Prayer before lunch.

Mr A cajoled me into singing something a cappella once we were all in the church.  The lively acoustics make even my voice sound pretty good, though I did forget the words that began the last stanza, and more or less had to fake a couple of lines before finding my place again.  It's a terrible waste to lose one's mind....

However, the Pastor later asked if I might be able to leave my voice behind with him.

 

Only one of the Italian Chaplains could attend, and he could speak no English.  I've not really attempted to speak Italian in 28 years, so I was delighted to bump into our Italian-speaking Soldier at the DFAC as we all went in for lunch.  I introduced him to Don Pietro and his assistant (not pictured here), and they hit it off so well, I sort-of twisted the arm of my Soldier's NCO to allow me to take him with us for the afternoon.  

Boy, was I relieved!

  

Since it's Lent now, the statue of the Black Madonna is once again vested in violet, as she was during Advent.

There was a photo taken of all of us Chaplains, but not with my camera, so I don't have it for you.  However, I snapped a photo of some of the Chaplain Assistants (plus the Italian-speaking Soldier from my Battalion).  None of them is exactly small, but even still, SPC C manages to make them seem so.  

It's a comfort to have him around!

  

The view in one direction from the plaza outside the church building.  Idyllic, no?

  

The view from the plaza in front of the church, in a slightly different direction.  Not so idyllic, eh?  

(A rather grim reminder of the violence of a decade ago....)

  

As we walked up the hill on our way to the church, we passed by this wall.

  

We even had a visit from Tom Brady!  

"Ah, but I'm the good-looking one, don't you know" said he, in his thick Irish accent.

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

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