timbslim

I heard a can top pop open and peel back. A strange smell crossed my nose. I had smelled it before. All of a sudden, it came to me, Vienna Sausages. I was sitting on the Mall in Washington D.C. I was there for the 1997 Promise Keepers rally. There were over a million men that day. It was hot; that made the odor worse. I thought to myself, “Who in the world opens Vienna Sausages in the heat of the day on the Mall at D.C.?” I turned my head to look behind me. There was the culprit, Arnold Brown. I was reminded of this story when I saw a can of Vienna Sausages while traveling in the southern region of Afghanistan. At the sight of them, my memory was flooded with images and thoughts of a particular event and a wonderful person. Many of you don’t know Arnold. Arnold was an older man, at that time about 50 plus. I know that isn’t old for all you 50 year olds. But Arnold had aged a little more in his 50 years. Arnold had a slow intellect. He made up for it with heart. Somewh...

This is my message at a PFC’s Memorial recently. I have changed the names and locations due to OPSEC (Operational Security). I was on a mission in the Southern Region of Afghanistan. By God’s design, I met this Soldier as we were waiting on a bird to catch a ride out to the forward positions. It would be the last time I would see him alive. I rode shotgun in the vehicle with PFC Joe on the way to the holding tent in the Southern Region of Afghanistan. We were the first to arrive as I recall. I couldn’t see him in the vehicle. He sat directly behind me. We all talked about where we were from. I remember PFC Joe being from Louisiana. We got to the tent. I believe it was PFC David that asked if I knew how to play gin rummy. It had been 20 years since I had played. I attempted to play. It wasn’t going too well for me. Joe was playing just across from me. He was a vibrant young man. I remembered him saying that he was going to Ripley. Every time SSG Brown or someone woul...

We have freakin cobras over here. Yes, you heard it right. There are cobras in Afghanistan, what wonderful news to hear when you arrive. There is a poster in our building that has the poisonous snakes listed, with pictures. It is a bit disconcerting to see the cobra listed with a visual. There is even a poster that warns that cobras can get into the toilets. Believe it or not, there is a picture of a cobra in a freakin toilet. Seriously? Is someone just messing with me? Because that crap is serious. I mean a cobra in the toilet. It is bad enough that you are going to die quickly once bitten by a cobra. But, do you also have to lose all of your dignity as well. “What happened to Tim in Afghanistan?” “Oh, you didn’t hear? He was bitten by a cobra.” “Really?” “Yeah” “Where?” “Uh, well, he was on the toilet.” “On the what?” “On the toilet.” “He was bitten by a cobra while sitting on a toilet?” “Yeah” “Was the toilet outside?” “No” “I don’t understand.” “He was sitting on a to...

Several years ago, I saw the most beautiful mosaic as I walked into the church from the foyer. The church was near the Sea of Galilee. The mosaic was the first thing I noticed. From a distance, all the pieces formed a harmonious image. I stood at the back for a while, to take it all in. I moved a little closer, about half way. As I approached, the pieces began to stand out. It was still easy to see the intent of the art. But, the pieces were now taking on their own identity. I got even closer. Now, I was only ten feet away. I could easily see each piece of the mosaic. The whole image was more difficult to discern. I got close enough to touch the wall. I saw each piece of the mosaic so individually that I had lost the image that they once made. The pieces of the mosaic were truly unique. None of them possessed shared symmetry. One piece was brown. Another would be blue. One piece might almost be square. Another would be not quite triangular. There were long pieces, ...

Unbelievably hot, and, I found myself hiking the ridge of a mountain range at the Pakistan border. It was 130 degrees. It was my assistant, Thompson, and I. We had flown into Torkham on a bird. The helicopter ride was great, rolling in and out of the mountain passes. At one point, I could have almost reached out and touched the face of a mountain. In reality, it was a good 30 yards away. It’s just that I have never flown past a mountain that closely, but, back to Torkham. Unbelievably hot, and up the ridge we went. Thompson and I were walking around on the FOB. We began to talk to some guys about the mountain ridge that led up to some stuff that will remain undisclosed. In the conversation, one of the guys said, “You should hike up there; it’s beautiful. My immediate response, of course, “That would be great.” So, off we went. Thompson didn’t decry going then. There were too many men around. He had to look at least as willing as I was. His willingness would wane. He wi...

I grabbed the front right handle of the gurney. The eight of us pulled it from the Blackhawk. It was dark. The wind from the rotors was violent. The sound drowned out the possibility of conversation. It wouldn’t have mattered. Conversation was not necessary, nor was it fitting. It was difficult to see. It was hot. It was calm. My assistant, Thompson, was immediately to my left, holding the front as well. We made our way across the flight line. The fallen hero was draped in an American flag, the most fitting garment for his honor. He had taken his final breath defending freedom. He never knew that I would be retrieving him that night. He pushed forward with little if any concern for himself. Now I, and my comrades, had the privilege of giving him the honor due him. We walked about 150 yards from one bird to the other. Once we got out from under the rotors of the delivering bird stillness gripped the moment. It was like slow motion. We approached the departing bird....

The treacherous landscape was displayed in my window as we darted through the majestic mountains of the Afghanistan countryside. I sat with my face in the window for the entire journey. Seeing things through the portal of a helicopter here is a view that is unparalleled. The mountains are jagged and barren. I imagine them in late Fall and Winter with snow, maybe in the Spring with brush strokes of green - but not much. It takes a tough plant to survive these conditions. Green is a scant sight here. Doesn't matter; the view from my seat was exhilarating. It is the kind of feeling that you get when you take in a deep breath, enraptured by images that catch you for the first time. The whole experience was like standing where time ceases to tick. Many thoughts flooded my mind. In the mountains I would see the occasional tent or lean-to dwelling. Once we entered the flatlands, there were more. I began to think to myself, “How does a person live in a tent in this arid place?” But, there...

I am sitting in my Chapel here at my Forward Operating Base (FOB). I am listening to a guy play a cello. Yep, a soldier brought his cello. I am watching him drag his bow across the chords as he plays a song called “Majesty.” This cellist joined our praise band last week. His music puts the finishing touch on the worship. As he plays, my heart is warmed. It is so unusual to be here and to be practicing for worship for Sunday. Somehow it doesn’t seem right. Yet, it seems perfect. My assistant and I suited up in full battle gear today, adding about 40 lbs. We drove over to the Entry Control Point (ECP). This is the main gate. There we walked around and talked with the soldiers who work that detail. They stand in the heat, some days in the 130’s, and guard the entrance. They do this in 13 hour shifts (one hour is a lap over). They do all this in full gear. So, my assistant and I decided to spend some of the day with them. It didn’t take long for me to be drenched in sweat and my back to hu...

Today I am sitting in my office. There is a normalizing sound that permeates my "B" Hut. It is the sound of baby birds chirping. There are baby birds in the wall where my air conditioning unit lines are placed. It's good to hear. It is good to hear because I hear it over all the other strange and awkward noises of a Forward Operating Base (FOB). There is the occasional sound of gunfire. Sometimes it is gunfire from our ranges. Sometimes it is the real deal. There is the occasional sound of an explosion. Usually, that one is real. These aren't as common as you might be thinking, except the gunfire. There is the sound of a huge generator that powers a Pizza Hut next to my office. You might say, "I bet Tim loves that." You would be wrong. I hate Pizza Hut. I don't like pizza, for a later conversation. But, the birds provide me with something different. I call the baby birds a normalizing and familiar sound for my day. I have heard baby bi...

08Jun09/Monday/8:16 pm I am on the greatest and most uncertain adventure of my life. Adventure here doesn’t mean that I am going on a thrill ride. For the first time in my life, adventure means that I am going into danger. I certainly don’t want to play that up; I feel that I will be cared for and safe. But, I am entering a war zone. Men and women do it all the time, every day. They have done this throughout history. Today, however, it is real to me. Today, I have set out to walk as many who have gone before me. I have sung the national anthem on many occasions. I have said the pledge of allegiance to the United States more than I can enumerate. Something has shifted within in me this last year. I have been an active duty officer in the US Army for one year today. When I hear the national anthem or say the pledge of allegiance today, my throat closes up, tears fill my eyes. It is different to me now. I have walked with soldiers for a year. I have seen what they do. Certain...