To all of you (okay...both of you) who have checked in to see if I've posted a new article, my apologies. My good friend Steve Kelley told me that if I can't update it weekly I should call it quits. The trouble is, I was SO lazy about updating the blog that I wouldn't even log in to say that I wouldn't be logging in anymore. How bad is that!?
After the first week of deployment (the honeymoon phase), I discovered that, when faced with the choice of sleep vs. updating the blog, I chose sleep every time. After a few weeks of 12-18 hour days, I decided to focus my communication on Shannon, Walker and Mike and jettisoned everyone & everything else, including this blog. Terribly lame, I know.
Well, four months later, I'm back home with Shannon and the kids in Biloxi, Mississippi. I'll be "off" for about 4 weeks, then back to work. We should find out in the next couple of months where we'll be assigned next. I would say, "I'll keep you posted," but we all know how that will turn out.
I thank you for your prayers and encouragement for me and my family during the deployment.
Peace.
Mike
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Friday, October 3, 2008
What is a military wife?
Wow. I can't believe how time flies! Has it really been since September 7th that I posted on this blog? Well, actually, I wrote a couple of posts, but they're on my work computer, which I can't access right now, because it's possessed and is being exorcised. But I got this email forward (which I hate) from Shannon, who got it from someone else, who got it from someone else. I thought it was worth sharing.
What Is A Military Wife?
They may look different - and each is wonderfully unique - but this they have in common:
lots of moving---
moving
moving
moving far from home
moving two cars, three kids and one dog----all riding with HERof course
moving sofas to basements because they won't go in THIS house
moving curtains that won't fit
moving jobs and certifications and professional development hours
moving away from friends, moving toward new friends
moving her most important luggage - her trunk full of memories
often waiting---
waiting, waiting, waiting for housing
waiting for orders
waiting for deployment
waiting for reunion
waiting for phones calls
waiting for the new curtains to arrive
waiting for him to come home for dinner.
They call her 'military dependent', but she knows better.
She can balance a checkbook, handle the yard work, fix a noisy toilet.
She is intimately familiar with drywall, anchors, and togglebolts.
She can file the taxes, sell a house, buy a car, or set up a move - all with ONE Power of Attorney.
She welcomes neighbors that don't welcome her.
Reinvents her career with every PCS.
Locates a house in the desert, the arctic, or the deep south and learns to call them all 'home'.
She MAKES them all home.
She is fiercely IN-dependent.
Military Wives are somewhat hasty. They leap into decorating, leadership, volunteering, career alternatives, churches and friendships.
They don't have 15 years to get to know people.
Their roots are short but flexible.
They plant annuals for themselves and perennials for those who come after them.
Military Wives quickly learn to value each other.
They connect over coffee, rely on the spouse-network, accept offers of friendship and favors and record addresses in pencil.
Military Wives have a common bond.
The Military Wife has a husband unlike other husbands.
His commitment is unique. He doesn't have a job, he has a'mission' he can't just decide to quit.
He's on-call for his country 24/7, but for you, he's the most unreliable guy in town.
His language is foreign: TDY, PCS, OPR, ACC, BDU.
And so, a Military Wife is a translator for her family and his. She is the long-distance link to keep them informed; the glue that holds them together.
Military Wife has her moments: she wants to wring his neck, dye his uniform pink, and refuse to move to Siberia. But she pulls herself together. Give her a few days, a travel brochure, a long hot bath, a pledge to the flag, and a wedding picture.
And she goes.
She packs.
She moves.
She follows.
Why? What for? How come? You may think it is because she has lost her mind. But actually it is because she has lost her heart. It was stolen from her by a man who puts duty first, who salutes the flag and whose boots in the doorway remind her that as long as he is her Military husband, she will remain his Military wife.
More to follow soon. Promise.
Blessings,
Michael
What Is A Military Wife?
They may look different - and each is wonderfully unique - but this they have in common:
lots of moving---
moving
moving
moving far from home
moving two cars, three kids and one dog----all riding with HERof course
moving sofas to basements because they won't go in THIS house
moving curtains that won't fit
moving jobs and certifications and professional development hours
moving away from friends, moving toward new friends
moving her most important luggage - her trunk full of memories
often waiting---
waiting, waiting, waiting for housing
waiting for orders
waiting for deployment
waiting for reunion
waiting for phones calls
waiting for the new curtains to arrive
waiting for him to come home for dinner.
They call her 'military dependent', but she knows better.
She can balance a checkbook, handle the yard work, fix a noisy toilet.
She is intimately familiar with drywall, anchors, and togglebolts.
She can file the taxes, sell a house, buy a car, or set up a move - all with ONE Power of Attorney.
She welcomes neighbors that don't welcome her.
Reinvents her career with every PCS.
Locates a house in the desert, the arctic, or the deep south and learns to call them all 'home'.
She MAKES them all home.
She is fiercely IN-dependent.
Military Wives are somewhat hasty. They leap into decorating, leadership, volunteering, career alternatives, churches and friendships.
They don't have 15 years to get to know people.
Their roots are short but flexible.
They plant annuals for themselves and perennials for those who come after them.
Military Wives quickly learn to value each other.
They connect over coffee, rely on the spouse-network, accept offers of friendship and favors and record addresses in pencil.
Military Wives have a common bond.
The Military Wife has a husband unlike other husbands.
His commitment is unique. He doesn't have a job, he has a'mission' he can't just decide to quit.
He's on-call for his country 24/7, but for you, he's the most unreliable guy in town.
His language is foreign: TDY, PCS, OPR, ACC, BDU.
And so, a Military Wife is a translator for her family and his. She is the long-distance link to keep them informed; the glue that holds them together.
Military Wife has her moments: she wants to wring his neck, dye his uniform pink, and refuse to move to Siberia. But she pulls herself together. Give her a few days, a travel brochure, a long hot bath, a pledge to the flag, and a wedding picture.
And she goes.
She packs.
She moves.
She follows.
Why? What for? How come? You may think it is because she has lost her mind. But actually it is because she has lost her heart. It was stolen from her by a man who puts duty first, who salutes the flag and whose boots in the doorway remind her that as long as he is her Military husband, she will remain his Military wife.
More to follow soon. Promise.
Blessings,
Michael
Sunday, September 7, 2008
Buddhist Chaplain Conducts Protestant Service!
Well....sort of. Last week, when I spoke to Chaplain Soh (Korean Presbyterian), I THOUGHT he said that the Wing Chaplain had assigned a "Buddhist" chaplain to lead the liturgical service here. So, you can imagine my relief this afternoon when I attended the Liturgical Service and discovered that the Chaplain is not "Buddhist". He's "British" - as in Royal Air Force. What a relief, since I will be helping out with the Liturgical Service on occasion. How interesting that our pastoral prayer this morning included a prayer for "our Queen Elizabeth."
Also, I preached at the Traditional Service this afternoon. Kind of like at Keesler, quite a few high-falutin' types attend the service. No matter. I told 'em what wretched sinners they are. Hey, whether you've got birds, bars, stripes or stars on your uniform, you're hopeless without Jesus, right? But then I told them the good news. I had to. It's in my contract.
This evening I attended the Gospel Service. But after two hours I had to go potty. Mainly because of the Starbuck's iced doubleshot I had right before the service.
Did I mention that there's a brand new Starbuck's here? As far as I can tell, it's run by two Nepalese gentlemen. We got off to a rocky start when I ordered "a venti iced doubleshot". Venti's the biggest one, right? So, I'm expecting to get what I ordered. (I'm weird that way). Then I get handed this tiny, milky little frappucino-looking thing. Imagine my consternation. Here I am on my deployment and I can't even get a venti iced doubleshot. (Excuse me while I take a sip of my Heineken....ahhh....that's refreshing).
Anyway, where was I??? Oh yes. The venti iced doubleshot. Eventually, I pointed to the picture and got pretty close to what I wanted. Plus I got to keep the other miniature drink. It was like "happy hour" at Starbuck's.
Turns out, though, that both drinks had double shots of espresso in them. Which explains why I had to go to the bathroom after two hours.
After the Gospel Service, I drove two chaplains around on some errands. We have a couple of those tiny little pick-up trucks (called Shepherd 1 & 2). You may have seen these trucks. They're like Tonka trucks....only....smaller and less powerful. But they're handy when you've got to go 3 miles across base.
Eventually, I made it to one of our fitness centers, hoping to swim a bit. Alas, the pool (olympic- sized) closed at 10pm, so I spent an hour on the elliptical trainer, watching NFL football. (My fantasy football team - Dunder Mifflin - is losing by 50 points, by the way).
I know this all sounds pretty "glam" (that's Hollywood-speak for "glamorous", for those of you who live in Arkansas) - the Heineken, the Starbuck's, the state-of-the-art fitness center, satellite TV - but the reality is that I have to get up at 5am tomorrow (it's 12:30am now) and meet some "human remains" that are on their way back to the US.
It's a reminder that we are at war. Whether we want to admit it or not. Whether we like it or not. We have people who pass through here on their way to and from the frontlines. They're here for some R&R before going back to the battle, or maybe they're on their way back home. But some only make it back to their loved ones in a flag-draped casket.
I can't even imagine what that's like for their families. Can you?
Maybe at some point it will sink in that they gave their lives, voluntarily, in service to their country, so you and I can drink our Heineken and our Starbuck's, and work out at the gym, and watch football - or whatever simple pleasure you and I enjoyed today.
Peace,
Michael
Also, I preached at the Traditional Service this afternoon. Kind of like at Keesler, quite a few high-falutin' types attend the service. No matter. I told 'em what wretched sinners they are. Hey, whether you've got birds, bars, stripes or stars on your uniform, you're hopeless without Jesus, right? But then I told them the good news. I had to. It's in my contract.
This evening I attended the Gospel Service. But after two hours I had to go potty. Mainly because of the Starbuck's iced doubleshot I had right before the service.
Did I mention that there's a brand new Starbuck's here? As far as I can tell, it's run by two Nepalese gentlemen. We got off to a rocky start when I ordered "a venti iced doubleshot". Venti's the biggest one, right? So, I'm expecting to get what I ordered. (I'm weird that way). Then I get handed this tiny, milky little frappucino-looking thing. Imagine my consternation. Here I am on my deployment and I can't even get a venti iced doubleshot. (Excuse me while I take a sip of my Heineken....ahhh....that's refreshing).
Anyway, where was I??? Oh yes. The venti iced doubleshot. Eventually, I pointed to the picture and got pretty close to what I wanted. Plus I got to keep the other miniature drink. It was like "happy hour" at Starbuck's.
Turns out, though, that both drinks had double shots of espresso in them. Which explains why I had to go to the bathroom after two hours.
After the Gospel Service, I drove two chaplains around on some errands. We have a couple of those tiny little pick-up trucks (called Shepherd 1 & 2). You may have seen these trucks. They're like Tonka trucks....only....smaller and less powerful. But they're handy when you've got to go 3 miles across base.
Eventually, I made it to one of our fitness centers, hoping to swim a bit. Alas, the pool (olympic- sized) closed at 10pm, so I spent an hour on the elliptical trainer, watching NFL football. (My fantasy football team - Dunder Mifflin - is losing by 50 points, by the way).
I know this all sounds pretty "glam" (that's Hollywood-speak for "glamorous", for those of you who live in Arkansas) - the Heineken, the Starbuck's, the state-of-the-art fitness center, satellite TV - but the reality is that I have to get up at 5am tomorrow (it's 12:30am now) and meet some "human remains" that are on their way back to the US.
It's a reminder that we are at war. Whether we want to admit it or not. Whether we like it or not. We have people who pass through here on their way to and from the frontlines. They're here for some R&R before going back to the battle, or maybe they're on their way back home. But some only make it back to their loved ones in a flag-draped casket.
I can't even imagine what that's like for their families. Can you?
Maybe at some point it will sink in that they gave their lives, voluntarily, in service to their country, so you and I can drink our Heineken and our Starbuck's, and work out at the gym, and watch football - or whatever simple pleasure you and I enjoyed today.
Peace,
Michael
Saturday, September 6, 2008
The Cure for What Ails You
6 September 2008
Brrrr. It's 34 degrees here at my deployed location! Oh...wait...that's in Celcius. Which would make it 932 degrees Fahrenheit!!! No, wait. Scratch that. It's 93.2 Fahrenheit. I didn't see the decimal point. It only feels like 932.
Oh, how I long for the cold, blustery days when I was in Ireland.
So, we landed shortly after midnight, local time. Unfortunately, our plane crashed on landing - JUST KIDDING! Our plane landed just fine, but was parked about 4 feet from where it should have been parked. So we made a big circle (the plane did) which took about 45 minutes. Really.
So we deplaned at about 1am - which is 5pm MBC (my body clock). But I haven't really slept in a long time, so I'm pretty tired. Not my usually bundle of joy. Anyway, we unloaded our luggage, which was a fun teamwork thing, although we were drenched with sweat.
We filled out some paperwork - which I think is funny, that we filled out this pretty important paperwork when we were most bleary-eyed and exhausted. Anyway, we finally got done at about 4am local time (8pm MBC).
Since I'm an adult human and wasn't really designed for sleeping upright (i.e. on the plane), I was pretty tired. Did I mention that already?
So, my sponsor picked me up from the passenger terminal and gave me a quick windshield tour of the base. Again, I think that's funny, because I don't remember ANYthing about what he told me or showed me. All I could think was, "Please stop talking and driving and let me go to sleep. Yes, yes, that's interesting...Where's my room? Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Commander so-and-so. Got it. Where's my room?"
My sponsor, Chaplain David, is an awesome bundle of energy and I can already tell that folks around this base love him very much. Even though it felt like it took longer, eventually we did crash at about 4:30am.
I regret to inform you that I did NOT take a shower before getting into bed. Gross.
Shannon will vouch for me. I must have been really tired.
Anyway, I titled this post, "The Cure for What Ails You" because it seems like there's nothing that a good night's sleep and a warm shower won't cure. And that's what I got. About 6 1/2 hours of sleep and good shower. Man, O Man, what a difference.
So now it's 11pm local time and it actually feels like 11pm MBC.
I accomplished some mundain but important inprocessing today. Met some of the other incoming and outgoing Chapel staff.
Went to the contemporary worship service at 7:30pm. I like contemporary services - if they're done right and not just 8 songs and a 20 minute message. Anyway, we sang the song "This Is The Air I Breathe", which I like okay. But, as often happens (because I'm so musical), there were some lyrics that made me cry. You know, the chorus that goes,
"And IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII, I'm desperate for You.
And IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII, I'm lost without You."
That made me cry. And if I wasn't in a public place right now, I'd cry again. (But I don't want someone to come up to me and ask, "Would you like to see a Chaplain?").
But those lyrics just reminded me of how weak and broken and sinful and idolatrous I am. There are thousands of troops here who need to hear the Gospel and be loved like Jesus would love them. And I'm so incapable of that kind of love.
I can't do this alone and I can't do this in my own strength - which is what I try to do all the time.
I need so much more than a good night's sleep and a shower. I need the sweetness and power of the Gospel.
Thank you, Lord, for reminding me how desperately I need you and your Spirit every moment of every day.
Peace,
Michael
Oh, yeah, I forgot to mention - I sweated away 3 pounds today. I added back one pound just now, 'cause I ate a Subway while I was writing this. For the last few years, since I've lived in Biloxi, I've maintained that humans were not intended to live in such a hot, humid, swampy, bug-infested climate as Biloxi. Well....at least there are no biting gnats here. Just camel spiders and scorpions.
Brrrr. It's 34 degrees here at my deployed location! Oh...wait...that's in Celcius. Which would make it 932 degrees Fahrenheit!!! No, wait. Scratch that. It's 93.2 Fahrenheit. I didn't see the decimal point. It only feels like 932.
Oh, how I long for the cold, blustery days when I was in Ireland.
So, we landed shortly after midnight, local time. Unfortunately, our plane crashed on landing - JUST KIDDING! Our plane landed just fine, but was parked about 4 feet from where it should have been parked. So we made a big circle (the plane did) which took about 45 minutes. Really.
So we deplaned at about 1am - which is 5pm MBC (my body clock). But I haven't really slept in a long time, so I'm pretty tired. Not my usually bundle of joy. Anyway, we unloaded our luggage, which was a fun teamwork thing, although we were drenched with sweat.
We filled out some paperwork - which I think is funny, that we filled out this pretty important paperwork when we were most bleary-eyed and exhausted. Anyway, we finally got done at about 4am local time (8pm MBC).
Since I'm an adult human and wasn't really designed for sleeping upright (i.e. on the plane), I was pretty tired. Did I mention that already?
So, my sponsor picked me up from the passenger terminal and gave me a quick windshield tour of the base. Again, I think that's funny, because I don't remember ANYthing about what he told me or showed me. All I could think was, "Please stop talking and driving and let me go to sleep. Yes, yes, that's interesting...Where's my room? Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Commander so-and-so. Got it. Where's my room?"
My sponsor, Chaplain David, is an awesome bundle of energy and I can already tell that folks around this base love him very much. Even though it felt like it took longer, eventually we did crash at about 4:30am.
I regret to inform you that I did NOT take a shower before getting into bed. Gross.
Shannon will vouch for me. I must have been really tired.
Anyway, I titled this post, "The Cure for What Ails You" because it seems like there's nothing that a good night's sleep and a warm shower won't cure. And that's what I got. About 6 1/2 hours of sleep and good shower. Man, O Man, what a difference.
So now it's 11pm local time and it actually feels like 11pm MBC.
I accomplished some mundain but important inprocessing today. Met some of the other incoming and outgoing Chapel staff.
Went to the contemporary worship service at 7:30pm. I like contemporary services - if they're done right and not just 8 songs and a 20 minute message. Anyway, we sang the song "This Is The Air I Breathe", which I like okay. But, as often happens (because I'm so musical), there were some lyrics that made me cry. You know, the chorus that goes,
"And IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII, I'm desperate for You.
And IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII, I'm lost without You."
That made me cry. And if I wasn't in a public place right now, I'd cry again. (But I don't want someone to come up to me and ask, "Would you like to see a Chaplain?").
But those lyrics just reminded me of how weak and broken and sinful and idolatrous I am. There are thousands of troops here who need to hear the Gospel and be loved like Jesus would love them. And I'm so incapable of that kind of love.
I can't do this alone and I can't do this in my own strength - which is what I try to do all the time.
I need so much more than a good night's sleep and a shower. I need the sweetness and power of the Gospel.
Thank you, Lord, for reminding me how desperately I need you and your Spirit every moment of every day.
Peace,
Michael
Oh, yeah, I forgot to mention - I sweated away 3 pounds today. I added back one pound just now, 'cause I ate a Subway while I was writing this. For the last few years, since I've lived in Biloxi, I've maintained that humans were not intended to live in such a hot, humid, swampy, bug-infested climate as Biloxi. Well....at least there are no biting gnats here. Just camel spiders and scorpions.
Friday, September 5, 2008
The Longest Day (or how I've learned to hate airline travel)
5 September 2008
The human body was not meant to be stuffed into an airline seat for 8 hours (or even 3 hours, for that matter). There's just no (drug-free) way to relax and rest. The guy next to me (and I mean RIGHT NEXT TO ME) slept like a rock for most of the flight. He had a bag of drugs which he offered to me. In hindsight, I wish I had taken him up on his offer. I feel like I've been beaten with a bag of oranges. You know that feeling. Where even the sleep you do get is that awful, crick-in-the-neck, un-peaceful "public place" sleep, where you wake up and discover that your mouth is open and you might have drooled. So, I've really grown to hate airline travel.
But here we are - in beautiful Shannon, Ireland. Although we can't leave the airport, I can see out of the airport window. It's green, cloudy, rainy, chilly and windy - which is pretty much how I pictured Ireland. I will definitely have to come back here someday.
One of the blessings of being delayed in Europe is that I got to chat with my dear friend Nickolas Barris, who lives in Holland with his family. I didn't realize that I'd set up Skype to start up automatically, but it did. So, up pops this message from Nick. Catching up with him definitely made the time go faster. I can't wait to live in Europe!
(silent prayer: "God, please don't send us to Europe. Please don't send us to Europe.")
That's an inside joke. In 1994 Shannon prayed aloud, "God, please don't send us to Biloxi, Mississippi." So now we pray against being stationed in Europe. Shannon and I are very spiritual.
Well, I'm very tired. So I'm going to find a place to crash. We've got quite a few more hours of travel ahead.
Peace.
Michael
The human body was not meant to be stuffed into an airline seat for 8 hours (or even 3 hours, for that matter). There's just no (drug-free) way to relax and rest. The guy next to me (and I mean RIGHT NEXT TO ME) slept like a rock for most of the flight. He had a bag of drugs which he offered to me. In hindsight, I wish I had taken him up on his offer. I feel like I've been beaten with a bag of oranges. You know that feeling. Where even the sleep you do get is that awful, crick-in-the-neck, un-peaceful "public place" sleep, where you wake up and discover that your mouth is open and you might have drooled. So, I've really grown to hate airline travel.
But here we are - in beautiful Shannon, Ireland. Although we can't leave the airport, I can see out of the airport window. It's green, cloudy, rainy, chilly and windy - which is pretty much how I pictured Ireland. I will definitely have to come back here someday.
One of the blessings of being delayed in Europe is that I got to chat with my dear friend Nickolas Barris, who lives in Holland with his family. I didn't realize that I'd set up Skype to start up automatically, but it did. So, up pops this message from Nick. Catching up with him definitely made the time go faster. I can't wait to live in Europe!
(silent prayer: "God, please don't send us to Europe. Please don't send us to Europe.")
That's an inside joke. In 1994 Shannon prayed aloud, "God, please don't send us to Biloxi, Mississippi." So now we pray against being stationed in Europe. Shannon and I are very spiritual.
Well, I'm very tired. So I'm going to find a place to crash. We've got quite a few more hours of travel ahead.
Peace.
Michael
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