Just finished watching Vietnam documentary… 18 hours… Ken Burns

I am exhausted, but alive and breathing in…

war disfigures our souls especially of the surviving warriors and gold star families

tormented by living in the new normal

it is the silence that roars…

My own experiences of a horrific war

somewhat gentrified

but still eyed as a lie

Evil is in the backline

that bloodies the frontline

Love does prevail at times

the true hero or heroine

are those who traverse after

innocence stolen or beaten out of us

children and siblings returned in bits and pieces

and fragments of enemies now loved

those who fragged, now forgiven

What is it about our feeble memories

failing to avoid our really botched and flawed,

if not diabolical previous choices,

blaming without looking

at our own almost botched choices if not for the grace of Love?

Love have mercy…

ron-self have mercy…

Jesus have mercy…

Buddha have mercy…

            on me

your beloved

who doesn’t always feel so loved or being…

Heal my soul… please!


My own soul haltingly, evasively nears the Vietnam Memorial

that spreads beyond the 58,272 to the 20 at Arlington Cemetery

and 61 and counting souls embraced at their death from Fallujah.

Many more are dying from spiritual heart attacks every day…

“I hate war,” I read on the FDR memorial wall

The fake wall with names like “Lies” and “Arrogance”

along our neighborly southern border,

will not work,

has not worked

in Vietnam, Korea, Berlin, Israel or Confederate/Union

the real though callous wall already built within the American psyche…

a wall that once hoped to keep out hate and racism

Mister President… take down that wall!…

we pray the Vietnam Memorial, the real Wall,

will remind us of who we are,

We as a people are not a wall, but a golden door,

Let us never again keep out

“…your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.”

Let us rather keep out the greed and profiteers of war.

Greatness as a nation comes from

those who fought and reconciled on both sides of a conflict,

not rhetoric nor tweets

nor self-righteousness

nor any political solution.

Healing comes from within

and from the balm of love

that former enemies have for US

and US for them.

Ron Camarda


Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
“Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she
With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

(Emma Lazurus ~ New Colossus ~ Statue of Liberty)



PACHYDERMS: One Soldier’s Experience of the Vietnam War

By Danny Buoy
Link to Pachyderms updated

This book was updated and edited and reads well. The story is truly a diamond

Review by Ron Camarda MWSA
January 26, 2012

Life after War

Pachyderms is a diamond in the rough. The book reads like a screenplay of a movie with substance…but better. The characters come alive, albeit complex, simple and surprisingly likeable, through the mind of a very gifted and clever author. St. Augustine’s Confessions came to my mind as I finished this book. Danny looks deeply into his own heart and soul and recognizes his own faulty judgments and foibles. The book is raw and demands that you feel, think about, experience and observe the fears, terror, boredom and blunt force of an illogical war. This is accomplished through the observations of a young new recruit who was overwhelmed by the inevitable deployment to an unpopular, seductive and perplexing Vietnam War. It was a war that blasted the body, mind and soul of the people who endured it.

If you dare to take the journey of this book, you will require a good dose of courage for the self-reflection. The author forced this Iraq combat veteran chaplain to re-evaluate some of my false assumptions of Vietnam Veterans and all combat veterans for that matter. Humbling.

To me, the book is more than real. It explores the depths of the heart and soul of young unsuspecting kids thrown into a caldron of invisible enemies, confusion, lust, virtue, immorality, poor leadership, superb leadership, terror, friendship, passion, fickleness, greed, death, red tape, the Army way, and love.

The story is compelling and resonates with life on many levels and dimensions. The book is connected and comes full circle in most cases. Some of the “unresolved” issues are just that, irresolvable. How could anyone understand suicide, returning soldiers treated like criminals, inept commanders receiving awards for causing so much misery, or a scared friend not saying goodbye?

The story, which more resembles a memoir, is complicated. Vietnam Veterans are complicated. This story really got under my skin. Any American History teacher or scholar would discover that Pachyderms is a hidden treasure, to use a Scriptural analogy. The story has the power that could assist healing in combat veterans.

Before I read about the deployment of PFC Cooby, the soldier narrating, I was so intolerant and skeptical of Vietnam vets in general. I was blind to the plight of the enlisted. When I read in shock about the R & R trysts of the soldiers to places like Hong Kong and Penang with the debauchery, lust and plain bad behavior, I was really angry with the soldiers. But I still really loved them unconditionally and I understood that they were not thinking with their brains, but only with their broken hearts. I forgave them and read on, as difficult as it was.

I am filled with gratitude for these men who suffered and were tormented by even their own family members upon return. There is much dissimilarity in the return of troops from the war in Vietnam compared to the recent wars. I am not sure I would have survived it. In war, “Charlie” (code for the silent and invisible enemy), can never hurt us other than physically. Only friends and loved ones can inflict the wounds of the heart and soul. And that is very clear to me, what all of us Americans did to our returning Vietnam Veterans. For some of them, death was a more humane or compassionate outcome compared to returning to a hostile America of the time. It just is. Vietnam Vets are not innocent nor without sins, but they do deserve to be forgiven for their own sins. They do not need to take the responsibility of those politicians and lousy leaders who sent them there without true support for the troops. My own sins are plethora. Who are we to judge?

Danny, like his Sergeant who went from feared boss to endearing friend, mentored me through this journey. Just as his former Sergeant corrected Danny Coobat, when he failed to mentor his replacement, in a very subtle way, Danny encourages those who dare to listen to his story.

‘The reader’ has never been in a bunker during incoming mortar, has never pulled a burned body from a Chinook, didn’t return from R & R only to find his buddies rotated, and has yet to be hailed by Rule number four. As far as I know, ‘the reader’ did not lose his first love Madilla, and only has one talent like you in July 1966. “Live and let live.”

At 17 years old, I entered into the overwhelming world of the military complex. Danny touches on many of those highs, middles and lows in navigating the torturous journey of becoming, not just a modern warrior…but also a decent and mature human being capable of honest and humbling self-criticism. He also shares with us the ability to love and to be loved.

The story is ordinary, gut wrenching, extremely thought provoking, and profound.

Thank you Sergeant Danny Coobat (and your friends both living and dead).
Welcome Home!

“Not good enough, Danny.” I wish I could embrace you, Sergeant Coobat, in a long hug,
engrossed in a feeling ‘brothers in war’ share. My eyes are too wet to confirm seeing a tear in yours, but my ears heard your voice crack when you said, “Good-bye Reader.”

INCOMING “DOC” – a review by Ron Camarda

By Jack “Doc” Manick
Author House, Bloomington, IN, 283p

Late last night I finished the last sentence of the 39th chapter:

“This was a dream, my dream; one that I hoped would never see the light of day!”

It could have happened. The same fear gripped me when I read Chapter O, which was not a dream. When I fell asleep after reflecting on this book, I dreamed. I was surprised at how I was not fearful of the chaos of my dream. I was in a foreign war and I had to let go of everything I most loved and cherished.

Jack “Doc” Manick’s active duty military career in the Army spanned the years from 1968 through 1971. His Tour of Duty took place in 1969 in the Central Highlands of Vietnam with the 70th Combat Engineer Battalion and the 131st Engineer Company. I was merely 9 years old when “Doc” was in Vietnam. Jack was an ordinary and innocent kid who was faced with horror and grace. I delivered papers in Massachusetts when the Vietnam “Conflict” was still going on. My innocence shielded me from the horror on the front pages of the papers I labored to deliver on my bicycle. Often a local boy or girl who had died in Vietnam pierced my bubble of avoidance. My family of 9 was terrified that my eldest brother of nine would have to go to Vietnam. I made a silent vow to myself that I would never carry a gun or go to war. Only half of that vow has become a reality.

Little did I grasp that what “Doc” and countless others endured in Vietnam would profoundly help me deal with my own story of combat experience 34 years later in Fallujah, Iraq. I was 45 when I was recalled with the Marines to serve with a M.A.S.H. like hospital during a most gruesome battle in 2004. In his book, Incoming, Doc heard from his bunker in New Jersey, “Padre down!” Without hesitation and at a cost, he came to me. I am grateful for his service both in Vietnam and especially for his time back in America, when America has not always been so kind.

Jack has written and incredible and moving account of his experience of Vietnam. He writes it colorfully and realistically. He took me back into the City of Fallujah while the battle raged. He helped me to wrestle with my inner conflicts that came home in my duffle bag.

I met Jack at the Military Writers Society of America while covering a table for book sales of fellow authors. We all were more concerned about the books we wrote than the books of others. Incoming won the Gold Award. The previous year my book won the Silver Award in spirituality. Writing and publishing one’s first book is monumental and exciting. Selling the book is humbling and frustrating. Instead of flying back home with our books, “Doc” and the “Padre” exchanged signed books. On 10\1\11 he signed his book to me:

“Lest we forget”
Jack “Doc” Manick

“Docs” and “Padres” hold a very special place among the troops in all branches of the service, especially in the Army and Marines. In chapter seventeen, Doc tells it how it is in, “Never Mess with Doc!” In Fallujah, I served with Marines, Soldiers and Navy Corpsmen, “Docs.” When the incoming “Docs” were wounded or killed in action, our hearts were blown apart even more than we could accept.

The last line of Chapter 34, AMBUSH, caused me to chuckle. For those who were non-believers, “we cheated Death for yet another day.” For believers, “It wasn’t yet our time.” At Bravo Surgical in Fallujah we had a motto called, “Cheaters of Death.” This we changed to, “Ready to Receive” for obvious and not so obvious reasons.

War has always seemed like a big waste, except for those who profit from it. When I was engrossed in the little and big battles of Jack in the war, I had to be aware of the “incoming” rockets, enemy troops, indifference or ignorance of our superiors, frustrations, rats, insects, boredom and the wounded needing immediate medical care or a medical evacuation.

When Jack handed me his book on the first day of October, I wasn’t expecting my latest “incoming”. For those of you who dare to read Jack’s story, it is more than just another Vietnam memoir, or any war story for that matter. This is the story of a young boy who matured into a fine young man and a very wise veteran who admits he is getting older and pudgier. Jack was “coming” to be the person he is. Through the war experience of Vietnam and the thirty-plus years since coming home, we experience in this book how Jack’s detonator has been lit. Jack is now “incoming!”

In chapter 40, Jack begins by saying: “I was going home and I was pissed!” Jack is so crafty as a writer that I was pissed that the book was ending. Jack had warned me in the beginning of the book in NOTES FROM THE AUTHOR. “Doc” wrote:
“Soldiers are dreamers, they dream about going back home to wives or girlfriends or to Mom and Apple Pie. Incoming is their story…it is our story…it is my story.”
Yes it is, Jack! Yes it is! Thank you for your service in Vietnam and mostly for your service as a gifted writer and gracefully surviving the incoming insults from those who have hated you both abroad and here at home.

Ready to Receive

Ready to Receive

Cheaters of Death

Ron “Padre” Camarda
Author of Tear in the Desert
January 17, 2012

Care Packages to Share


In the last meditations of Father Anthony De Mello in The Way of Love, he begins one of his mediations:

“Think of a flabby person covered with layers of fat. That is what your mind can become—flabby, covered with layers of fat till it becomes too dull and lazy to think, to observe, to explore, to discover. It loses its alertness, its aliveness, its flexibility and goes to sleep. Look around you and you will see almost everyone with minds like that: dull, asleep, protected by layers of fat, not wanting to be disturbed or questioned into wakefulness.”

After copying this in my journal on November 29, I wrote the following:

Come, Beloved Jesus…

Then on Saturday morning on the memorial of St. Francis Xavier, as I was preparing to hear Confessions at St. John the Evangelist Church in Interlachen, I wrote the following:

Yes, Jesus
You have awoken my Spirit.
Yes, I will follow
and lead the way
through the darkness into your heart
although I am already within, but I didn’t know it!

O Jesus, all alone again
Bob, my brother priest helps me through the bog

You truly have come
to set a fire on the earth
and division.
You baptize me with your blood…so hot at first that I recoil

Patience, kindness, gentleness
Thanks for the fruit and sweetness
Generosity, purity, faithfulness
Thanks for the warm bread
Love, joy, peace,
Thanks for the strength and depth!

How long you must have waited for my soul to awaken
Groggy, whiney complaining

And yet, I feel and experience
how you purify me
spit on my eyes
hold me close to your breasts
like my Italian grandmother, Teresa,
pulled me in with her love and arms
It was so very uncomfortable
to breathe and think
with my face smashed into Grandma’s breasts
And yet, I now long for that uncomfortable love that conquers all

O Beloved God,
smash my face into your breasts
make me uncomfortable
call me to grow up and mature

I am here this morning
with You,
Just like three years ago
after Bishop John encouraged me
that sometimes I have to carry my cross
And then the man who ordained me
laid hands on me again
and forgave me.
As I drove down to Interlachen to hear confessions,
it hit me
the oils of Chrism flooded my eyes,
poured down on my beard (that has been long ago shaved off)
and into my heart and soul

Yes, You, O God, have ordained me
to be Your son
Your brother
and your lover
I am truly Father Ron
and I tremble at the prospect
just as every father does
as his tiny babe drawn from his loins and his beloved’s womb
is placed in his hands for the first time
Love pours like oil—a father forever
even if it costs him his life,
he will defend his wife and children
and then the world.
And now I beg forgiveness
and as I whimper my request
the words pour forth from your heart and soul
as you are tortured on the cross
“Ron, today you will be with me in Paradise!”

Take it in. Savor it.
Be protected by these words.
Rejoice in it.
Celebrate it.
O Holy Night, the stars are brightly shining
This is the day and night of Our dear Savior’s, and Our birth.
Long lay my world and our world in sin and error pining
Till He appeared,
my Father and your Father,
my Brother and your Brother,
my Lover and your Lover
and my soul felt its worth
a thrill of hope, a weary world rejoices
for yonder and here breaks
a new and glorious morn—
Fall on my knees
I hear the angel voices
“O night divine when Christ was born,
O night, O night divine”

Breathe on me Jesus
Enflame my soul
Burst my dullness and darkness
Bring Light! Bring Light!
Use me
Your will be done
Shatter my deafness, my loneliness, and my darkness
Devour me so that I might live
Breathe in…
Breathe out…
Proclaim to all the world and universe
God is with us,
Until the end of time…and beyond!!!
o my! o wow! and oooh!!!

And then on Sunday morning as I was sipping my coffee on the back porch and praying the Office of Readings, I read the words of St. John Damascene, priest and doctor, on his feast day:

“O Lord, you led me from my father’s loins and formed me in my mother’s womb. You brought me, a naked babe, into the light of day, for nature’s laws always obey your commands.
By the blessing of the Holy Spirit, you prepared my creation and my existence, not because man willed it or flesh desired it, but by your ineffable grace. The birth you prepared for me was such that it surpassed the laws of our nature. You sent me forth into the light by adopting me as your son and you enrolled me among the children of your holy and spotless Church.
You nursed me with the spiritual milk of your divine utterances. You kept me alive with the solid food of the body of Jesus Christ, your only-begotten Son and our God, and you let me drink from the chalice of his life-giving blood, poured out to save the whole world.
You loved us, O Beloved…”

Beloved, I pray you are having a wonderful Advent. I am. This week I am going to be courageous and offer you a homework assignment. Go ahead and read Psalm 104 out loud. It speaks in very poetic words and imagery of how God creates our world and all who live in it. God is an Awesome God. God is Good…ALL THE TIME!
Yes, Jesus!

Love, joy, peace,
Father Ron Moses +


Review by: Ron Camarda, MWSA

Crossing the Line takes the reader on a journey to Iraq and back again. The subtitle is misleading. The story isn’t just about one soldier, his eight-month pregnant wife, his children, an embedded journalist, or even the 42nd Field Artillery Brigade faced with a deployment to a warzone that was different than any other war, and yet a war like all other wars. As the story unfolds, the reader is allowed to experience, taste and be frustrated by the absolute boredom, tedious desert buildup and the aching for home along with the adrenalin rushes of the battle. The book is personal.

Those of us who have served or deployed (and those of us who watched and prayed for a loved one go off to war and return), Bill Cain captures that incredible place where a few days of waiting seem like an endless twilight zone. As a young intelligence officer at the time, Cain gives insight about how difficult and frustrating simple communications were in 1991. Cain places letters and notes of family, peers and enlisted throughout the book in chronological order, even though many were actually received days, weeks, or months later. It seems to be effective. Bill was tortured by not knowing whether his son was born. Historically, this book is very important for us to understand a time when most communications were done by snail mail. Today it is unfathomable for us to experience a war without Skype, Facebook, or cell phones. Yet the real fear of biological and chemical warfare wreaked havoc on the troops and all of us back home. It reminded me of my first convoy in Iraq in 2004 when I was terrified, whiney and just didn’t know what was coming next. Cain does a good job in showing the differences and similarities of the two Iraq wars. If a picture is truly worth more than a thousand words, the picture of Cain just before deployment with his caption pierce our humanity: “That’s me in the holding area, Rhein Mein, trying to cope with all the emotions of the moment.”

Even after we veterans return, we notice that something is left undone. Something remains in the desert, in the loneliness of being with others, and longing for the love in our bed beside us. Lovers have lost days, weeks and months that will never ever be found. We attempt to write them in books, journals, poetry, or songs, but we seem to never finish the story that has no ending. Crossing the Line is about crossing into the place of being lost, and then taking a shot at finding our way home…even if home is now changed forever. The true war is within. It isn’t political, although it often masquerades behind the political, capitalist, or communist machines of man’s creation.

Bill and Renee’s son who was born during the Desert Storm is now almost 20 years old. Their children’s lives are forever affected by this five-month deployment to a war zone. Their choice of studies, the kind of family they grow, and their involvements with the military were and are probably profoundly affected. It was only mentioned that their oldest son served in Operation Iraqi Freedom. Yes, we are soldiers and soldiers’ spouses…but our greatest love always sustains us and is victorious over any war or battle. The book left me longing for the real mark of the war in Bill’s relationship to his wife, family, and self over the years. Regrettably, Cain inadvertently puts too much emphasis on Saddam Hussein as the source of the war and evil. Much self-criticism of country and self is missing in action.

The last chapters were the most intriguing for me. Bill shares his wisdom as a seasoned colonel with his own bias that sometimes bordered on apologetics. In the chapters leading up to the “crossing of the line” I was a little bogged down by the military jargon, complaints, and tedious details of the plan of war. However, the weaving of Bill and Renee’s letters of love throughout the book kept the storyline anchored. Conclusions were based on his intimate experiences blended with his trustworthy and professional assessment in which disagreement was an option. On a few occasions his neutrality as an historian was skewed to the right, but for the most part he presented a very fair presentation. As one who went into Fallujah, Iraq in 2004 as a chaplain without this knowledge and understanding of the Gulf War, the book would be of great value for college and high school American History courses. The discussions would be lively.

When Bill writes about OIF: “…it’s easy to see how the insurgency was initially fueled by our failure to properly account for the immediate aftermath of war.” and “…it was clear that we had problems to solve beyond the enemy situation in Iraq.” These quotes revealed to me how crucial this book was to our growing awareness of the part we play in the wars of the world. Self-evaluation is always tough. Bill Cain was courageous in his attempt.

Bill Cain offers his own insight, craftily written to allow the reader to insert one’s own insight without negatively or positively reacting to the author. Bill is a hero for serving…especially for writing this thought provoking journey. It warrants all liberals and conservatives to read and then to come together and discuss on a back porch treating each other with profound respect and love.

This book was an honor to read. It offered me the opportunity to also go back to Iraq again to better understand what I (and those who love me) experienced. Thank you.

Living Veterans

Even though November is the month when we remember those who have died, there is something to be said about the living. Memorial Day is when we remember all Veterans whom have died. On the other hand, Veterans Day (November 11) is a time to remember and honor all Veterans who live after serving, precisely because they have lived.

Once a veteran, always a veteran. All veterans take an oath similar to a marriage covenant. Divorces or annulments of their status as a veteran are almost unheard of. In fact many veterans are the fiercest fighters for the end of all wars and for abiding peace, precisely because they are committed to protecting their beloved country against all enemies foreign or domestic. (even if the enemy is within our souls)

“I, a Veteran of the United States of America, promise to be faithful to you, My Beloved Country, in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will honor and love you all the days of my life.”

Lately I have been struggling with my next book, TEAR IN MY SOUL, which is an attempt to discover the truth and flesh of our souls. I have journeyed and written in my journals since I graduated from the U.S. Merchant Marine Academy over 30 years ago. I have written about that sacred time just before death of hundreds of people. That is probably the reason that all the doors opened for me to be called to serve with the Marines in Iraq against all odds. God knew I would be a great witness to these astonishing living moments before death. I have been doing it most of my life.

Susi Pittman raises and attempts to answer the question about whether animals are in heaven. In the weeks and maybe months ahead, I thought it would be worth sharing about people I believe are in Heaven. I have loved them all and I truly don’t believe that I could ever outdo God in compassion and love. Hang on as we take this incredible journey together to discover a tear or two in our souls if we glimpse a loved one in heaven.

In honor of Veteran’s Day, this story comes from my time as a parochial vicar at St. Catherine’s in Orange Park. I had been called to lead a funeral service for a Veteran who wasn’t attached to any particular church. Who am I to judge?


What do I know about Maurice except that he died August 3, 1998?
Maurice was a sailor and soldier, a husband, father, brother, grandfather and son.
He lived 76 years
He must have been a friend and an acquaintance
The sea is magical and peaceful
I know the touch of a sunrise or sunset at the core of my being
Those who sail on the seas or deploy know the longing,
for the source of the breathless celestial transits,
for the mystery of the loneliness
the desire for loved ones
the need for home
even when home is somewhat broken
Veterans know the camaraderie of a troop or battalion or ship
the fall of a shipmate or death of a buddy
All these are part of living
If we always waited for the trip, voyage or deployment to end or the hump to cease,
we may never live the life we were given
If our only goal in life were to make it
to Eagle Scout or Scout Master or CEO,
how empty would be the journey?
the adventure?
the voyage of eternity?
Maurice, Dad, Granddad, Friend…
We will meet you in the moments,
the breaking of our hearts

and in the remembering of the voyage
Sail on!
March on!
Right on!

God bless our Veterans. Let’s pray for lasting peace only Jesus can give us. After the Battles of Gethsemane, Golgotha and Death, Jesus stood before us even though the doors were locked and said, “Peace be with you.” And then he showed them his hands and sides. At the sight of the Lord the disciples rejoiced? He said it again, “Peace be with you! As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” And then he breathed on them and said, “Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive each other’s sins, they are forgiven. If you hold them bound, then they will remain bound.”

Love, joy, peace,

Father Ron Moses +

Journey of a Soul into Eternity

It doesn’t matter who we are, we all are on a journey in this life.

We all must be born and thrust out into the world usually against our will. We were all created from the sperm of a man and an egg of a woman. We strive to understand these donors as “Father” and “Mother”. Sometimes, because of circumstances that just are, others must step in out of love as foster parents to raise and love us.

Who would want to leave the warmth of our mother’s womb? We can’t fathom nor dream how total consciousness gets better and better. Human beings seem to be the only living creatures that are capable of contemplating the future and past. We think about an afterlife. Susi Pitman’s book, Animals in Heaven? Catholics want to know, contemplates whether our pets and animals will or are in heaven. We human beings can raise this kind of question, however animals don’t appear to “think” about it. Animals don’t write about thoughts like this article is doing, nor do they read and understand like you are doing at this moment. It isn’t good or bad, it is just an observation.

Sometimes, when life and being human becomes difficult, we wish we were like our pets. A dog or cat in a loving family really doesn’t worry about much. Nothing keeps them awake at night thinking. All of their worries and needs are in the present. Unlike our spouses, the more delayed you are in getting home, the happier the dog gets when you finally return home!

Basically, we are all more like animals than we are different. All of us strive to survive. We want to live. Even the person who commits suicide wants to live. The emotional, spiritual and physical pain has become unmanageable. The suicidal person, who basically has a “spiritual heart attack”, is hoping to get the life back flowing in their lives.

God is good, just look around. God doesn’t make junk. Too often, we focus and belittle ourselves mostly as sinners without looking at ourselves as a miracle of life. My experience of God is a loving Father and Mother. My hope is that God will always be this loving. God is always waiting for me to come home. God embraces you and me everyday with breath and a heartbeat. Mean dogs are only mean because they were trained to be mean by human beings. We are all first and foremost incredible, fantastic and beloved children of God. None of us would ever believe for a second that it is okay to abuse or injure a baby or toddler. And yet, we were all once just that. Loved. The only time a child is abused or aborted is when we fail to see the child as a one-of-a-kind and unique person like all of us. Those people are simply blind or dead to being open to the miracle of life and transcendence.

It is difficult to live. And it will be difficult to die. We see it coming and know that no one gets out of this world without dying. It is natural. I look forward to my death for it will be a journey, my journey. Don’t be afraid of living in heaven today on this earth. Life is an opportunity to journey and transcend our world and become more and more like our Creator. Amazing! Crazy! Fabulous! Forever.

Newborn babies don’t have a clue as to what is happening, but consciousness is a slow process. I suspect heaven will be the same. We are loved and God understands that we couldn’t possibly feed and protect ourselves from the beginning.

Trust God’s love for you and have a blessed day as a Steward of God’s Creation, which includes being stewards of our “thinking” and “birthing into heaven”.

Love, joy, peace,

Father Ron Moses +

Pura Vida

Seven Years since the Battle of Fallujah

I guess I have been quite negligent in this blog.

Here I am on the 7th anniversary of being in the Battle for Fallujah.
My view of life is different.
It has been tough.
It has been wonderful.
It has been a long journey.
Since I last posted, much has happened. June 2011, I was elected the State Chaplain of the VFW for Florida.
This past weekend I went to the Fall Meeting in West Palm Beach.

What I realized is that the Veterans of Foreign Wars must someday close their doors. This will only be accomplished if we don’t participate in any more wars overseas. I truly do desire for World Peace. WE MUST BE PEACEFUL first in our own families.
Can you imagine the joy if 100 years from now we would no longer need an association of war veterans? It would be a celebration.
No more Tears!
This is my dream and hope.
Just imagine!
Love, joy, peace,
Father Ron

Imagine World Peace