Uphill idealist

That moment is frozen in a space that is beyond time or a running pace. It's impact hit and ran ongoing tremors though every day that I wake. Image of Berlin Ice People exhibit found at Pinterest I'd like to remove it and live apart from that spring of sadness with its hurt of heart. I'd like to ignore it but it keeps turning up, like Impossible glitter on a brow or undefined residue in a cup. It can't be un-lived. It is what it was. It should be long gone, but it lingers in every pause. It stings like lemon juice in a paper cut. It's not a mortal wound, but one that I've had quite enough. If I could take hold of that moment I'd move it out into the sun; to see what comes of it's unfreezing and perhaps find it transformed into a helpless puddle - now on the run. Unfrozen and melted may this moment be, so that tomorrow at sun rise I'll be set free. T.L. Eastman Copyright September 2015

Image found at Oregon Idaho UM Conference There is a great deal of power in a name. At birth we are given a name by our parents and that becomes an identifier of who we are. It’s the means of getting our attention, engaging us to participate and giving us a place to interact with others in community. When we have a name, we have a place in a family, at school or work. Our names become a vehicle of interacting with people. Even after death, our names remain to be a point of connection and blessing that carries on well beyond our lifetime. On this day of the Saints, we honor and remember those that have died and can take encouragement from their lives of faith in God. Their lives and our lives are a tapestry woven together by God’s grace and love; in the joys and the sorrows of life. Our names give us a place in this world, but not all of the places and experiences of life initially feel like blessing. Martin Luther speaks of the tension of living with the effect of sin, as Chris...

So once upon a time, there was this kid who thought nothing they did was right, mattered or did anything but cause problems. This kid was sometimes called a boat rocker. It's not like this kid, we'll call him Joe, ran the streets or anything. It's just that 'Joe' always had a question, thought about things in ways others didn't, and had a hard time with algebra. These differences were just enough to place Joe in that space of being, or thinking he was an outsider. There was a time in Joe's family that was really difficult. His sister had died after a long illness and had left the family numb and grieving. His sister was a great person. She was always kind, never a challenge and even though she had trouble with math too - she was so genuinely good, most people never noticed. Months had passed after his sister's death, and Joe came to the point in his grief that he wondered why he, the boat-rocker, had not been the one to be taken. Since his sister's d...

Even though I'm posting late on Monday, it is still Sleeping with Bread Day. SWB day is the day that I look over the past week of living and access the moments and things that both took away from and gave me life throughout the week. For the sake of the hour I'm writing today, I'd prefer to simplify with a list (and some explanations) of the -'s and +'s of the last seven days. Hmmm... +'s and -'s. Sounds like the idea for a start of a song. Maybe so. - I did a terrible job of working out my work schedule for the last month or so. I added too many extra events (my own fault)and realized very early in the week that it was catching up to me. Why do I insist in filling time so much, or penciling in things without taking into account the investment: personal, physical, timely, and emotional that doing that results in? I need to work on this. + I'm so thankful for two volunteers that have come aboard to help me with the youth work at my church. It's wonder...

I once read that the hardest thing about moving on to a new opportunity is to stop the habit of looking back at the old door/window that used to be yours. Is it my looking backwards that keeps causing me to be in this awkward place? My consolation and desolation are hinged on the same window this week. The issue itself I think is one that could be plugged or unplugged, but the root of what makes it a desolation is knowing I can't choose to go back. Loss is like that. Just when you think you are over it, poof! A smell, a memory, even a new possibility can trigger the feeling of emptiness and wanting to fill up the hole that you thought was gone, but really is still there. I keep trying to let this loss go and bravely move into the new found freedom that the loss made room for, but moving on is sometimes so hard. My bread this week is knowing what I lost was very important to me, more so than I ever knew. My bread is knowing I'm not alone in my feelings. My struggle is knowing ho...