Looks like I made the news. :-) ...Just by doing my job, though. On the web page of the Mid-South Diocese of the Charismatic Episcopal Church there's a brief notice about me and a link to a sermon I preached at the Cathedral of Christ the King, right before I deployed.
Click here to view the article.
Sunday, December 20, 2009
Saturday, December 19, 2009
The Bishop's Special Miter
As many of you know, bishops wear different-colored miters for different seasons of the Christian year: white for Christmas and Easter, green for Kingdomtide/Ordinary Time, purple for Lent, purple or blue for Advent, red for Pentecost.
Since Bishop David Epps' collection of miters and copes is incomplete, my family decided that at the annual parish Christmas party at the Cathedral of Christ the King in Sharpsburg, GA we would present him with a miter for a very important season that he is lacking - "football season." Bishop Epps hails from the great state of Tennessee and is an avid fan of the Tennessee Volunteers. Therefore the Landon family decided to present Bishop Epps with a miter in his beloved orange and white.
This is only the second miter that we have made. I wrote out the pattern and instructions, and Becky and Denise did the cutting and sewing. It turned out a little snug for Bishop David, but we have challenged him to wear it at the next provincial convocation. We'll see how he does there - the Archbishop's an Alabaman fan!
Outward Bound Part II
Well, it’s Saturday afternoon 19 December 2009 – housekeeping day – and I’m sitting in the laundry room waiting for the washing machines to finish washing my clothes so I can move them to the dryer. So, I thought I’d use the time to prepare the next installment of Tales from the Sandbox.
Last time, I only write about half the trip out here, stopping when we left Leipzig Halle, Germany. The second leg of the flight was only about four and a half hours long. It was about 8:30 pm and fully dark when we landed in Kuwait. Even if it weren’t dark I would have been unable to send any pictures of our arrival, because photography on military airfields is not permitted without prior permission from command authorities. It’s too easy for the enemies of the United States to use information from those photos for targeting.
As we taxied to where we would disembark, in the runway lights we could see that it had been raining. Later I discovered that the brief, rainy season in Kuwait started about three days before our arrival. We filed off the airplane and onto tour busses where we sat for a long time, waiting for the baggage detail to take our bags off the airplane and put them onto a cargo truck.
Once they had completed their task and joined the rest of the passengers on the busses, we convoyed to a place about twenty minutes away, where we killed time for an hour, waiting for a Kuwaiti police escort to bring us from our holding area to the place where we would do our administrative inprocessing.
The location was pretty austere – just a bare patch of hard-packed silt and blowing sand, surrounded by concrete blast-restraining walls. For our personal comfort, there were a row of plastic porta-potties, several coolers with iced-down water bottles, and a pallet-load of water bottles waiting to go into the coolers. Under a sand-colored sun-shade (which was more of a screen than a tent) were picnic tables where we might sit and enjoy our water and any snacks we might have with us. Of course, it was dark, so the sun shade didn’t do anything for us, but I suppose it was nice to know that if we HAD been stuck there in daylight, we would have had shade.
When our escort finally arrived, we loaded the busses again and headed out. All the windows on the bus were curtained, and we were strictly instructed to keep the curtains drawn. Nobody told us the reason, but I suppose it was probably so that any hypothetical terrorists out there could not aim at the people on the bus. They could take out the WHOLE bus with a bomb or shoot randomly through the windows, but could not target individuals. (When you’re a Soldier you think of such possibilities as an ordinary part of planning a trip.) However, there have been no attacks on US forces in Kuwait since the beginning of the war in 2003, and the trip proceeded without incident.
The trip was about an hour and a half. The seats on the busses had worn upholstery – dingy with wear, but not dirty. They were narrower than the seats in American tour busses would be and had substantially less leg-room. We could not recline the seats at all without pressing on the knees of those behind us. I’m just observing, not complaining. I’ve ridden in much worse conditions.
Anybody remember the cattle cars from Basic Training? With duffel bags on our backs and rucksacks on our laps? That was worse, and certainly rides in the back of a deuce-and-a-half (2.5 ton Army cargo truck) were worse, too. Even so, I think I will never learn to love a Kuwaiti tour bus.
We arrived at the Theater Gateway, in the Logistical Support Area (LSA) at Ali Al-Saleem Air Force Base somewhere around 10:30 pm. On arrival, a junior enlisted Soldier got on the bus. “The R&R flight from Dallas just arrived before you, and so you’ll have to wait on your busses until the Dallas people are briefed and inprocessed,” she said.
“What about using the latrines?” said one of my fellow-travelers. It was a reasonably predictable question, since most of us had been aggressively hydrating during the flight and at the holding area. A wise person doesn’t want to start a sojourn in the desert already partially dehydrated.
“Oh,” she said, like this was a new idea to her, “Well, there are porta-potties right across the street, but get right back on the bus.” Then as she turned to get off the bus, she delivered this parting gem, “And go one at a time.”
A beat later, the spontaneous exclamation arose from the passengers, almost in unison, “One at a time?!? Yeah, right!!” followed by a mad dash to the porta-potties.
Apparently this young Soldier thought that there was some tragedy that would be averted by sending us one at a time. However, no drastic effects arose and about twenty minutes later as the last of the relieved passengers returned to the busses, we were told we could file off the busses.
We walked to a covered area where there were signs to various destinations. There was a sign for those staying in Kuwait, one for those traveling through Baghdad International Airport (Iraq), one for those traveling through Balad Airport (Iraq), one for Baghram (Afghanistan), and several others. Each of us stood behind the appropriate sign for our respective, final destinations.
A female sergeant with a bullhorn was walking about giving guidance about who was to go to what signs, in case we didn’t know. Her voice was high and thin and didn’t carry well – a problem many women Soldiers face when addressing large formations. The bullhorn helped a little, but not a whole lot, because the sound it produced included static and crackles that blurred the edges of her words. Since she spoke very quickly, her words mushed together and it was very difficult to understand her.
People who stood at the back of the crowds behind the signs looked at each other and said, “Hunh? What did she say?” People who stood closer and could hear her passed her instructions toward the back. Unfortunately she was still talking as they did so, so they (and the people to whom they were speaking) were apt to miss the next thing she said, so THEY said, “Hunh? What?” And so it continued. By the end of her speech, most of us had grasped about ¾ of what she said, and we hoped that nothing we missed was critically important.
After she had us properly sorted and organized, she gave us a 10-minute potty-and-smoke break. Since I had already taken advantage of the porta-potties and had no need to smoke, I took advantage of that time to search for Chaplain Huey – the person I was to replace – and Staff Sergeant Stevenson – my chaplain assistant. They had come from Camp Arifjan to pick me up and spare me from having to wait hours for a shuttle bus.
We found each other pretty easily and I went right away to load my carry-on luggage (backpack and laptop case) into the Unit Ministry Team’s SUV. I didn’t want to mess with them while sitting through briefings and looking for my checked bags.
SSG Stevenson arranged for me to be able to “swipe in” without waiting for the administrative inbriefing. I’ve been through it several times, I know the rules and since I already had a ride to Camp Arifjan the part of the briefing that tells people how and when to catch their transportation for the next leg of the journey was irrelevant to me.
The movement of personnel into the theater of operations and between camps is recorded by scanning bar codes on our identification cards. That’s what “swiping in” means – getting the card scanned. In addition to keeping accountability of personnel, swiping in also starts our various pay entitlements that go with being in a combat theater.
However, we found that I still could not depart until after the briefing because our baggage remained on the cargo truck until we unloaded it ourselves, with a “bucket brigade” style human conveyor belt. So I sat through the briefing for the fifth or sixth time.
After the briefing I went with my fellow-passengers to the cargo truck, but I found there was no need for me to be in the bucket brigade line. The Sergeant from the Theater Gateway staff was experienced at this, and knew about how long a line he needed to get the luggage unloaded and stacked for us to claim. He cut the line off short of where I was standing. So, I (and the others who had fallen in beyond the cut-off) just stepped back and watched for our bags.
I intercepted the bags as quickly as I could. I have a 65-pound rucksack (the bulk of that weight is my body armor), two duffel bags and a plastic footlocker. Chaplain Huey, SSSG Stevenson and I loaded them into the SUV, and off we went. By this time it was about midnight.
Well, this post is getting long enough. I think I’ll wrap it up for now and save the rest of the story of my arrival for later. Besides, my sheets are dry and it’s time to make my bed. Stay tuned for our next exciting episode, “Home Away from Home.”
Last time, I only write about half the trip out here, stopping when we left Leipzig Halle, Germany. The second leg of the flight was only about four and a half hours long. It was about 8:30 pm and fully dark when we landed in Kuwait. Even if it weren’t dark I would have been unable to send any pictures of our arrival, because photography on military airfields is not permitted without prior permission from command authorities. It’s too easy for the enemies of the United States to use information from those photos for targeting.
As we taxied to where we would disembark, in the runway lights we could see that it had been raining. Later I discovered that the brief, rainy season in Kuwait started about three days before our arrival. We filed off the airplane and onto tour busses where we sat for a long time, waiting for the baggage detail to take our bags off the airplane and put them onto a cargo truck.
Once they had completed their task and joined the rest of the passengers on the busses, we convoyed to a place about twenty minutes away, where we killed time for an hour, waiting for a Kuwaiti police escort to bring us from our holding area to the place where we would do our administrative inprocessing.
The location was pretty austere – just a bare patch of hard-packed silt and blowing sand, surrounded by concrete blast-restraining walls. For our personal comfort, there were a row of plastic porta-potties, several coolers with iced-down water bottles, and a pallet-load of water bottles waiting to go into the coolers. Under a sand-colored sun-shade (which was more of a screen than a tent) were picnic tables where we might sit and enjoy our water and any snacks we might have with us. Of course, it was dark, so the sun shade didn’t do anything for us, but I suppose it was nice to know that if we HAD been stuck there in daylight, we would have had shade.
When our escort finally arrived, we loaded the busses again and headed out. All the windows on the bus were curtained, and we were strictly instructed to keep the curtains drawn. Nobody told us the reason, but I suppose it was probably so that any hypothetical terrorists out there could not aim at the people on the bus. They could take out the WHOLE bus with a bomb or shoot randomly through the windows, but could not target individuals. (When you’re a Soldier you think of such possibilities as an ordinary part of planning a trip.) However, there have been no attacks on US forces in Kuwait since the beginning of the war in 2003, and the trip proceeded without incident.
The trip was about an hour and a half. The seats on the busses had worn upholstery – dingy with wear, but not dirty. They were narrower than the seats in American tour busses would be and had substantially less leg-room. We could not recline the seats at all without pressing on the knees of those behind us. I’m just observing, not complaining. I’ve ridden in much worse conditions.
Anybody remember the cattle cars from Basic Training? With duffel bags on our backs and rucksacks on our laps? That was worse, and certainly rides in the back of a deuce-and-a-half (2.5 ton Army cargo truck) were worse, too. Even so, I think I will never learn to love a Kuwaiti tour bus.
We arrived at the Theater Gateway, in the Logistical Support Area (LSA) at Ali Al-Saleem Air Force Base somewhere around 10:30 pm. On arrival, a junior enlisted Soldier got on the bus. “The R&R flight from Dallas just arrived before you, and so you’ll have to wait on your busses until the Dallas people are briefed and inprocessed,” she said.
“What about using the latrines?” said one of my fellow-travelers. It was a reasonably predictable question, since most of us had been aggressively hydrating during the flight and at the holding area. A wise person doesn’t want to start a sojourn in the desert already partially dehydrated.
“Oh,” she said, like this was a new idea to her, “Well, there are porta-potties right across the street, but get right back on the bus.” Then as she turned to get off the bus, she delivered this parting gem, “And go one at a time.”
A beat later, the spontaneous exclamation arose from the passengers, almost in unison, “One at a time?!? Yeah, right!!” followed by a mad dash to the porta-potties.
Apparently this young Soldier thought that there was some tragedy that would be averted by sending us one at a time. However, no drastic effects arose and about twenty minutes later as the last of the relieved passengers returned to the busses, we were told we could file off the busses.
We walked to a covered area where there were signs to various destinations. There was a sign for those staying in Kuwait, one for those traveling through Baghdad International Airport (Iraq), one for those traveling through Balad Airport (Iraq), one for Baghram (Afghanistan), and several others. Each of us stood behind the appropriate sign for our respective, final destinations.
A female sergeant with a bullhorn was walking about giving guidance about who was to go to what signs, in case we didn’t know. Her voice was high and thin and didn’t carry well – a problem many women Soldiers face when addressing large formations. The bullhorn helped a little, but not a whole lot, because the sound it produced included static and crackles that blurred the edges of her words. Since she spoke very quickly, her words mushed together and it was very difficult to understand her.
People who stood at the back of the crowds behind the signs looked at each other and said, “Hunh? What did she say?” People who stood closer and could hear her passed her instructions toward the back. Unfortunately she was still talking as they did so, so they (and the people to whom they were speaking) were apt to miss the next thing she said, so THEY said, “Hunh? What?” And so it continued. By the end of her speech, most of us had grasped about ¾ of what she said, and we hoped that nothing we missed was critically important.
After she had us properly sorted and organized, she gave us a 10-minute potty-and-smoke break. Since I had already taken advantage of the porta-potties and had no need to smoke, I took advantage of that time to search for Chaplain Huey – the person I was to replace – and Staff Sergeant Stevenson – my chaplain assistant. They had come from Camp Arifjan to pick me up and spare me from having to wait hours for a shuttle bus.
We found each other pretty easily and I went right away to load my carry-on luggage (backpack and laptop case) into the Unit Ministry Team’s SUV. I didn’t want to mess with them while sitting through briefings and looking for my checked bags.
SSG Stevenson arranged for me to be able to “swipe in” without waiting for the administrative inbriefing. I’ve been through it several times, I know the rules and since I already had a ride to Camp Arifjan the part of the briefing that tells people how and when to catch their transportation for the next leg of the journey was irrelevant to me.
The movement of personnel into the theater of operations and between camps is recorded by scanning bar codes on our identification cards. That’s what “swiping in” means – getting the card scanned. In addition to keeping accountability of personnel, swiping in also starts our various pay entitlements that go with being in a combat theater.
However, we found that I still could not depart until after the briefing because our baggage remained on the cargo truck until we unloaded it ourselves, with a “bucket brigade” style human conveyor belt. So I sat through the briefing for the fifth or sixth time.
After the briefing I went with my fellow-passengers to the cargo truck, but I found there was no need for me to be in the bucket brigade line. The Sergeant from the Theater Gateway staff was experienced at this, and knew about how long a line he needed to get the luggage unloaded and stacked for us to claim. He cut the line off short of where I was standing. So, I (and the others who had fallen in beyond the cut-off) just stepped back and watched for our bags.
I intercepted the bags as quickly as I could. I have a 65-pound rucksack (the bulk of that weight is my body armor), two duffel bags and a plastic footlocker. Chaplain Huey, SSSG Stevenson and I loaded them into the SUV, and off we went. By this time it was about midnight.
Well, this post is getting long enough. I think I’ll wrap it up for now and save the rest of the story of my arrival for later. Besides, my sheets are dry and it’s time to make my bed. Stay tuned for our next exciting episode, “Home Away from Home.”
Thought for the Day
Today I gave the thought for the day at the US Army Central Command Battle Update Brief. As this briefing is a command function and not a religious event, I have to follow some rules to keep the thought for the day appropriate.
First and foremost, I have to bear in mind that not everyone there is of the same faith group, and must be respectful of the presence of those whose beliefs are different from my own. That doesn't mean I have to hide what I believe, it just means I have to express my beliefs in ways that are respectful of others.
Second, I'm limited in the time available for the Thought for the Day. The target is not to exceed 30 seconds. It comes near the end of the briefing, and the attention of the participants is limited.
So, here was my thought for the day today, 19 December 2009. It actually ran a little bit over the 30-second goal, but the feedback I got was good, so it was well-received.
In recent Thoughts for the Day, Chaplain Michalke has been telling us about the Twelve days of Christmas. Some of you may also be aware that sunset today begins the last day of Chanukah.
Chanukah commemorates the victory of the Jewish Hasmonean priests against the forces of Syria in 165 B.C.E. After purifying the temple - though they only had one day’s worth of oil that met the requirements of ritual purity for the lamps in the sanctuary – they lit the lamps, which burned for eight days, until they were able to obtain more oil for them.
Chanukah reminds us that when things are darkest, God's light is able to break through to guide us, and when resources are scarcest, God is both able and willing to provide miraculously for those who trust in Him.
First and foremost, I have to bear in mind that not everyone there is of the same faith group, and must be respectful of the presence of those whose beliefs are different from my own. That doesn't mean I have to hide what I believe, it just means I have to express my beliefs in ways that are respectful of others.
Second, I'm limited in the time available for the Thought for the Day. The target is not to exceed 30 seconds. It comes near the end of the briefing, and the attention of the participants is limited.
So, here was my thought for the day today, 19 December 2009. It actually ran a little bit over the 30-second goal, but the feedback I got was good, so it was well-received.
In recent Thoughts for the Day, Chaplain Michalke has been telling us about the Twelve days of Christmas. Some of you may also be aware that sunset today begins the last day of Chanukah.
Chanukah commemorates the victory of the Jewish Hasmonean priests against the forces of Syria in 165 B.C.E. After purifying the temple - though they only had one day’s worth of oil that met the requirements of ritual purity for the lamps in the sanctuary – they lit the lamps, which burned for eight days, until they were able to obtain more oil for them.
Chanukah reminds us that when things are darkest, God's light is able to break through to guide us, and when resources are scarcest, God is both able and willing to provide miraculously for those who trust in Him.
Friday, December 11, 2009
Contact Information for Fr. Jonathan
Friends and family have asked how they can mail care packages to me while I'm here in Kuwait, so I thought I'd post contact information for everyone's convenience. No, I'm not fishing for goodies. A card or letter saying you're praying for me and the Soldiers under my care will be just as special to me.
Mailing Address
HQs USARCENT/CFLCC
Command Chaplain's Office
ATTN: Chaplain Landon
Camp Arifjan, Kuwait
APO AE 09306
For the curious... that alphabet soup on the first line means, "Headquarters US Army Central / Coalition Forces Land Component Command"
Phone (in my quarters)
1-253-642-6897
Dial this just as if it's a US phone number. It will ring on my computer if I'm logged onto the Internet and in my room to answer. If I'm not in, it will take voicemail. I'm usually in my room and awake from about 7:30 PM to about 10:30 PM Kuwait time (11:30 AM to 2:30 PM Eastern Standard Time).
IM (Yahoo): thelandon5
IM (AKO): jonathan.landon
Skype ID: fr.jonathan.landon
Mailing Address
HQs USARCENT/CFLCC
Command Chaplain's Office
ATTN: Chaplain Landon
Camp Arifjan, Kuwait
APO AE 09306
For the curious... that alphabet soup on the first line means, "Headquarters US Army Central / Coalition Forces Land Component Command"
Phone (in my quarters)
1-253-642-6897
Dial this just as if it's a US phone number. It will ring on my computer if I'm logged onto the Internet and in my room to answer. If I'm not in, it will take voicemail. I'm usually in my room and awake from about 7:30 PM to about 10:30 PM Kuwait time (11:30 AM to 2:30 PM Eastern Standard Time).
IM (Yahoo): thelandon5
IM (AKO): jonathan.landon
Skype ID: fr.jonathan.landon
Sunday, December 6, 2009
Outward Bound
Departed Atlanta about 1900 (7:00 pm for all you civilian types) on World Airlines, a small airline that—so far as I know—does only chartered flights. The plane was not overloaded so I got a seat on the aisle with an empty seat beside me. The flight crew was very prompt and efficient with beverage service and meals, which was nice for us passengers. About 20 minutes into the first film (Ghosts of Girlfriends Past, with Matthew McCaughnahey), I could tell it was not going to be worth watching and plugged myself into my MP3 player to listen to an audiobook, (Crossroads of Twilight, Book 10 in the Wheel of Time series by Robert Jordan).
That worked pretty well, except that the movie on the screen in the airplane kept distracting me from the story, even though I didn’t have the airplane headphones on to hear the movie. So I wrapped a kerchief around my eyes, as if I were trying to sleep so I could listen to the audiobook without visual distraction. —with predictable results. I kept dozing, and losing parts of the story, so I had to rewind the story several times. … which is not a big problem. I probably needed the naps more than I needed to finish the story.
One of the times I came back to consciousness, I took off the kerchief and saw that there was a different movie on – the Tom Cruise movie about the German officers who tried to assassinate Hitler. However, it was well into the movie so I didn’t put on the airline headphones. In fact, I soon saw that it was actually very near the end of the movie. So, sorry, I don’t have a viewer’s assessment of whether it was a decent movie or not.
About 0400 (4:00 AM) Atlanta time, 1000 (10:00 AM) local time, we arrived at Leipzig-Halle airport in Germany. Weather is bright and clear, but a bit chilly. Busses met us at the plane and took us, not to the main terminal, but to a small, layover terminal building. (Somehow “layover terminal” sounds like it should be an oxymoron, but I don’t know what else to call it.) The expected layover time is about an hour and a half, while the ground crew refuels the plane, restocks food and beverages and cleans the plane. It’s not too bad a place to stop. There is typical airport terminal seating, a gift shop and a little café. As one of my co-travellers says, “It beats a tent.”
Naturally, after eight hours in the air, the smokers immediately strolled out to the outdoor smoking area to inhale some toxins.
There’s free Internet in the terminal, if one can succeed in getting connected. Although I managed to connect with the network, it only gave me local access, not Internet access, so I didn’t get my mail checked, and didn’t get a chance to check in on Facebook, Skype or Google Voice.
That’s a common problem I experience. Sometimes it’s just a matter of waiting while the computer and network get to know each other or something, and Internet comes up after a wait. I don’t know whether I’ll have time to wait, though. I don’t have a full battery charge, and naturally the correct adapter is in my checked luggage, so I cannot plug in my computer. Tried disconnecting and reconnecting, but that’s not working so far. Also tried to walk around the terminal to see whether there is a spot where I can get better-connected, without success.
I was rather amused to see the number of Soldiers who whipped out their notebook computers and tried to get on the Internet. Some even cared enough to pay to get on the LAN computers here in the terminal, but I didn’t think anyone was urgently desiring to hear from me at 4:00 AM, so I wasn’t about to pay. Since I now have a low battery warning and still don’t have Internet access, I guess this message won’t go out until I get to Kuwait.
That worked pretty well, except that the movie on the screen in the airplane kept distracting me from the story, even though I didn’t have the airplane headphones on to hear the movie. So I wrapped a kerchief around my eyes, as if I were trying to sleep so I could listen to the audiobook without visual distraction. —with predictable results. I kept dozing, and losing parts of the story, so I had to rewind the story several times. … which is not a big problem. I probably needed the naps more than I needed to finish the story.
One of the times I came back to consciousness, I took off the kerchief and saw that there was a different movie on – the Tom Cruise movie about the German officers who tried to assassinate Hitler. However, it was well into the movie so I didn’t put on the airline headphones. In fact, I soon saw that it was actually very near the end of the movie. So, sorry, I don’t have a viewer’s assessment of whether it was a decent movie or not.
About 0400 (4:00 AM) Atlanta time, 1000 (10:00 AM) local time, we arrived at Leipzig-Halle airport in Germany. Weather is bright and clear, but a bit chilly. Busses met us at the plane and took us, not to the main terminal, but to a small, layover terminal building. (Somehow “layover terminal” sounds like it should be an oxymoron, but I don’t know what else to call it.) The expected layover time is about an hour and a half, while the ground crew refuels the plane, restocks food and beverages and cleans the plane. It’s not too bad a place to stop. There is typical airport terminal seating, a gift shop and a little café. As one of my co-travellers says, “It beats a tent.”
Naturally, after eight hours in the air, the smokers immediately strolled out to the outdoor smoking area to inhale some toxins.
There’s free Internet in the terminal, if one can succeed in getting connected. Although I managed to connect with the network, it only gave me local access, not Internet access, so I didn’t get my mail checked, and didn’t get a chance to check in on Facebook, Skype or Google Voice.
That’s a common problem I experience. Sometimes it’s just a matter of waiting while the computer and network get to know each other or something, and Internet comes up after a wait. I don’t know whether I’ll have time to wait, though. I don’t have a full battery charge, and naturally the correct adapter is in my checked luggage, so I cannot plug in my computer. Tried disconnecting and reconnecting, but that’s not working so far. Also tried to walk around the terminal to see whether there is a spot where I can get better-connected, without success.
I was rather amused to see the number of Soldiers who whipped out their notebook computers and tried to get on the Internet. Some even cared enough to pay to get on the LAN computers here in the terminal, but I didn’t think anyone was urgently desiring to hear from me at 4:00 AM, so I wasn’t about to pay. Since I now have a low battery warning and still don’t have Internet access, I guess this message won’t go out until I get to Kuwait.
Leipzig from the air prior to landing.
Getting off the plane onto busses.
What do Soldiers do with their down time? They get on the Internet (above) and they sleep (below).
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
What's in a Name?
Hi, family, friends, fans and interested strangers! :)
My family and my long-term friends know that I've recently deployed to Kuwait. In the past, friends and family have asked me to write fairly often when I'm deployed or on temporary duty overseas so that they know what is going on with me and whether I am well. Many have an interest in supporting, encouraging and praying for our military service members--especially those who are deployed--and their families and hearing from service members like me helps them to feel connected to us and informed, so they can pray wisely.
In response to those requests, I've developed the custom of publishing a newsletter when I'm overseas that I call "Tales from the Sandbox" -- a sort of multiple entendre, to coin a phrase.
Most people are familiar with the sandbox that is found on a child's playground, a place where imagination can roam freely and children have fun and learn by role-playing.
Those with military experience may also be accustomed to the term that arose from training exercises at the National Training Center at Fort Irwin, California. Fort Irwin is very near to Death Valley. In the summer it is as hot as you could wish a desert to be during the days and at night the temperature plummets so fast that one can feel quite chilled. Even though, objectively speaking, the temperature doesn't get very cold, when it drops fifty or sixty degrees in a couple of hours, it FEELS very cold. It is dusty and dry, and so the wind moves the soil around all the time and NOTHING stays clean.
At Fort Irwin, the "sandbox" or sometimes just "the box" is the maneuver space where combat exercises occur. When you enter the sandbox, you are expected to behave in every way as if you were in a real, combat environment. If you don't take seriously what is going on there, you will be "killed" by simulated weapons, you will be responsible for the simulated deaths of your fellow Soldiers, and possibly you may cause your unit's failure to achieve its assigned missions. Everything is as realistic as can be managed without incurring real, unnecessary danger to the lives of Soldiers.
And, of course, sandbox is a somewhat archaic term for the place where indoor cats do .... well, you know.
My experiences while deployed or training in the Middle East have ranged from fun, fantastic, learning experiences, to days with live mortars falling on the base around me when it was seriously possible that people I know and care about might be dead by the time the shelling stopped. God has sent ministry opportunities my way that touched my soul with joy, excitement and satisfaction, and a feeling that I could bring God's love to people in their direst need. He has also sent challenges that simply overwhelmed my capacity to go on and left me weeping and feeling completely helpless.
Yet even as I write this, I must acknowledge that God has dealt gently with me, because I have friends and professional colleagues who have faced far worse than I ever had to, and suffered much greater harm, and (I have no doubt) have done tremendously powerful ministry in the lives of servicemembers they touched with their presence and with God's grace.
That's what's behind the tongue-in-cheek title "Tales from the Sandbox". It includes, of course, a not-too-subtle reference to the terrain and climate where the current war is happening. More than that, though, it means that military service members' experiences here range widely, from interesting, fun, wonderful and joyful through challenging and difficult to overwhelmingly sorrowful and white-knuckled, heart-pounding fear, and just plain nastiness.
This time around, I'm in Kuwait for six months, and I've decided that instead of just sending the newsletter out by email, I'll post a blog. It's likely that I will continue to update and maintain it after I return home. I'll post news and photos for my family, friends and acquaintances who are interested to know what I'm doing and how I feel about it. I'll probably post some devotional thoughts too... maybe the text of sermons I've delivered over here (rare though they'll probably be), or devotional messages that I've written just to stay in practice. ;)
Knowing me, updates will be posted at irregular intervals, so don't anyone be anxious if you don't see any changes here for a while.
Anyway, God bless you all and good night, because it's bedtime now.
My family and my long-term friends know that I've recently deployed to Kuwait. In the past, friends and family have asked me to write fairly often when I'm deployed or on temporary duty overseas so that they know what is going on with me and whether I am well. Many have an interest in supporting, encouraging and praying for our military service members--especially those who are deployed--and their families and hearing from service members like me helps them to feel connected to us and informed, so they can pray wisely.
In response to those requests, I've developed the custom of publishing a newsletter when I'm overseas that I call "Tales from the Sandbox" -- a sort of multiple entendre, to coin a phrase.
Most people are familiar with the sandbox that is found on a child's playground, a place where imagination can roam freely and children have fun and learn by role-playing.
Those with military experience may also be accustomed to the term that arose from training exercises at the National Training Center at Fort Irwin, California. Fort Irwin is very near to Death Valley. In the summer it is as hot as you could wish a desert to be during the days and at night the temperature plummets so fast that one can feel quite chilled. Even though, objectively speaking, the temperature doesn't get very cold, when it drops fifty or sixty degrees in a couple of hours, it FEELS very cold. It is dusty and dry, and so the wind moves the soil around all the time and NOTHING stays clean.
At Fort Irwin, the "sandbox" or sometimes just "the box" is the maneuver space where combat exercises occur. When you enter the sandbox, you are expected to behave in every way as if you were in a real, combat environment. If you don't take seriously what is going on there, you will be "killed" by simulated weapons, you will be responsible for the simulated deaths of your fellow Soldiers, and possibly you may cause your unit's failure to achieve its assigned missions. Everything is as realistic as can be managed without incurring real, unnecessary danger to the lives of Soldiers.
And, of course, sandbox is a somewhat archaic term for the place where indoor cats do .... well, you know.
My experiences while deployed or training in the Middle East have ranged from fun, fantastic, learning experiences, to days with live mortars falling on the base around me when it was seriously possible that people I know and care about might be dead by the time the shelling stopped. God has sent ministry opportunities my way that touched my soul with joy, excitement and satisfaction, and a feeling that I could bring God's love to people in their direst need. He has also sent challenges that simply overwhelmed my capacity to go on and left me weeping and feeling completely helpless.
Yet even as I write this, I must acknowledge that God has dealt gently with me, because I have friends and professional colleagues who have faced far worse than I ever had to, and suffered much greater harm, and (I have no doubt) have done tremendously powerful ministry in the lives of servicemembers they touched with their presence and with God's grace.
That's what's behind the tongue-in-cheek title "Tales from the Sandbox". It includes, of course, a not-too-subtle reference to the terrain and climate where the current war is happening. More than that, though, it means that military service members' experiences here range widely, from interesting, fun, wonderful and joyful through challenging and difficult to overwhelmingly sorrowful and white-knuckled, heart-pounding fear, and just plain nastiness.
This time around, I'm in Kuwait for six months, and I've decided that instead of just sending the newsletter out by email, I'll post a blog. It's likely that I will continue to update and maintain it after I return home. I'll post news and photos for my family, friends and acquaintances who are interested to know what I'm doing and how I feel about it. I'll probably post some devotional thoughts too... maybe the text of sermons I've delivered over here (rare though they'll probably be), or devotional messages that I've written just to stay in practice. ;)
Knowing me, updates will be posted at irregular intervals, so don't anyone be anxious if you don't see any changes here for a while.
Anyway, God bless you all and good night, because it's bedtime now.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)