Grown Pains

June 16th

How do you even say the word suicide to someone? As a Christian, how do I say it? How do I tell me friends that some days I just want to open myself up and drain out all my blood to see if that would make me feel lighter, to lift this seemingly unbearable weight. If I could just snip all my heart strings would it still remain there hanging limp in my chest or would it abate? I could not even put into words that sometimes I am in such sorrow that I do not want to simply “be”  anymore. Hope is such a dangerous thing to run out of. What lies beyond hope is bleak and desolate and so lonely it causes an actual ache. A gnawing that tells you it will go away if you do.

Someone once told me that he wants to leave a paper trail so what when he dies people can tell stories, or point to credit card statements and see his legacy. A legacy of buying coffee for friends, or charity donations, and money spent on gas so he can go visit his grandmother. And I think if I left now my legacy would fade so fast and it would not a legacy make. I would leave behind pain, resentment, and gross incompletion.

A friend of mine lost a dear loved one recently, a physical and spiritual giant in his community. This man filled so much space. My friend, in as near a perfect analogy as I can must, compared his life and the community’ loss to that of a felled tree. This tree will not be a staple of its forest any longer. His offspring and the trees around him have lost a source of shade and the forest will just never be the same. And I do not know if my friend knows this, but trees do so much more than just provide shade for one another. They also will warn each other about dangers and even supply nutrients to injured fellow arbors. So when that tree is gone a legacy is left. We truly are standing on the shoulders of giants I suppose. But I am not tree, or very giving and sometimes this is all much more difficult than I had imagined. My friend also said that her giant that passed away, Ike was the local mole patrol. He knew all about them so he took care of the rodents when they rose up from the ground. Ike had been loving his neighbors in this capacity for decades. So shortly after his death when all the moles began to pop up in people’s lawn no one was annoyed or irked they all just were reminded and rejoiced in the life and legacy of their friend, mole patrol, and giant Ike. And I suppose for now those moles are alive, and so am I.


Election Night

Gonna ease myself into this so here is an older one                                                       Originally written November 8th

           I have this feeling that when I wake up tomorrow I will live in a world changed. For good or for ill or for indifference. No matter who I voted for or who is right or wrong or who I think is right or wrong, it will be different. And then again maybe it will be only slightly changed or so we can hope. Like a parallel world running so closely to ours. Because Star Wars movies are going to continue to come out, and Buzzfeed will continue to make gif lists about Friends every 15 minutes, and people are still going to point telescopes at the stars and wonder, and the Cubs will have won a world series this century, and I am still gonna wonder why everyone spoke English in the Raiders of the Lost Ark, and people are going to keep adapting Jane Austen stories, and I will go to trivia on Tuesday nights and the true color of that dress may still elude us, and I am still going to believe it is the people not the system that are inherently flawed.
So, I am going to awake in a world that is still broken and the state of the union, the numbers in the Senate or House of Representatives or even who occupies the seat of president will not alter that. My work here has very little to do with what I draw a line to on my ballot. My goal here is to make my small portion of the world a little better. And people have thrown God around a lot in discussion of political beliefs this election, as every before in America. Whether in regards to how could I, as a Christian vote one way or another or in my own notions of God’s power. But I am not being asked to believe in God when I vote. I am asked to believe in people, which my God, is so much harder.