Nathan and joel

I’m not depressed! These two prophets spoke to me.

It’s ok, the prophet Joel speaks of locust devoring a crop(a person) in three degrees. Landing chewing smashing…well sorta. It’s like sin, how it seaps in surrounds, gets into one and liquidate the brain,emotion and body. Joel doesn’t leave you there but calls for lamenting, a surching of soul, of a group effort of identification of wrong, and a group effort of lamenting about it.

Is that where you are? You don’t want to do ya, its fine, your still in your game.

Nathan told me about identification of wrong how I was the one, both pushed to repentance. A day is set aside for judgement. The day of the Lord.

Lamenting leads to repentance leads to recognize in the day of the Lord…but not necessarily judgement but forgiveness.that day of the Lord was celabtated at the cross.judment was realized to the other one.

Judgment for me would be all my stearing wheels lined up to tell me the vocal oath I’ve shouted and cried.

When I write about my depression there is always an ending , a pointing I’ve treid to place in there to the cross.

We all have a Nathan, who’s yours.

The one who tells like it is draws the conclusion that you know but the telling is more.

Restoration is available, says ,Joel. The lost time is restored

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life’s physical and emotional pain is met in community openness. having friends and relationships helps battle the thoughts that condemn.

gasping for air

Joy killing brain intoxicated chain.

Blame it on my geans . Na

It’s my own damn fault.

Hank Williams  country singers they have something

Joy..happiness a gift from God. Is it that I’m not seaped into His person?

Physical pain, cloudyness, no affermation ……it’s the human side.

Chance hello and chat, on the sidewalk, bring a spark a connection. That’s lifting. Making breakfast for my wife that’s lifting.

Exhausted exhausted exhausted….throw me a rope!

Read your Bible you fool. Says the voice. My …toxic person s affected my spirit so quickly.

My wife stobility my weather vein . My relief..

Rain. Plants . insects. Soil. Work. …..pleasure.

I don’t care if I don’t spell right .

Lament with me o church of Christ, my joy  is gone in worship, handcuff fed by sin.

Epilogue ……my joy is growing, identifying the locust , ( Joel chapter one). the stage and depth….learning…

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My bleeding 💓

its a long road at 62. Friends die , friendships faid.

Realizing you’ll never make the pure of heart team.

But then again I’m not in the tri-outs. Some one took my place, and placed me on The team. Why do I feel like psalm 88? Or resonate with William Cooper,s hymns?

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living in grief

Some place i need to be to speak to your ears that cant hear me. your ears hear the heavenly stuff, i only hear tinnitus. A walk in the wild flower preserve of shenk’s ferry suggests a place to talk in-audibly about how its going now that you aren’t here. now that I have a void deeper then the valley of Mertensia. Sitting alone in the watering hole is…

Another friend taken early, propelled my kayak down griefs rapids yet again.

How do you get a best friend ? at 62 now the pool is thin. reconciliation from the Lord of friends is a sure bet. tangible sacraments maintain a reality to the age/ eternity connection.  observation of adult child and mom repairing a rift is a hallelujah moment.

So, thats the back ground beyond the fire wall.

The fore ground is more positive.

There is this objective to complete certain things while i can still move. such as visiting a personal trainer. after last year not being able to move from a herniated disk i’m not just going to go to a gym but be very sure about form in lifting weights and direction on whole body strengthening.

other things include building my own pond, nicer road bike, a box of cigars and a bottle of scotch…

church, living after a broken dream in burn out. its harder to go just beyond knowing i’m secure in faith, to enjoying a congregation. we’ve joined a care group which is probably the saving factor in balancing the bureaucratic inconsistency of how the gospel is demonstrated in a church ideology and balancing the gospel in genuine friendships.

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Posted in church planting, depression, grief, journal, random thoughts, religion, resolutions, tinnitus, true christian response, Warrior Poet


gasping for air

“A friend may well be reckoned a masterpiece of nature”. Emerson wrote.

death of a friend or family member leaves you alone. obviously i guess, but since my mom died shortly before thanksgiving i realize i have no parent on the planet. this is scary.

we had a memorial service for her of which i recounted a time line of her life which will be coming out in pieces in following blogs. the best thing that carried me through the delivery was having friends in the audience. family and fiends let me not distance family from friends. friends from my current job and friends who have been around my family for years.

the biggest catalyst for a weeping spell is looking at cards different people have sent. it’s not the card so much as who took the time to send one. and its left me in honor of them being…

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Sticky vs slimy

The day ended in a snowy 2+ inches. Drawing traffic here in Lancaster to a crawl. I watched and was engrossed in work as everyone in the office got in their cars and went home. Dreading the bus commute , or worce the waiting. Wishing the pizza place sold beer. 

I watched the computer track the bus it hardly moved. I checked the greenhouse walking along adjusting doors and heat. I was ready to hurry and wait. The small group waiting was getting larger, cars with single passengers passed so slowly you could almost hear a song off the radio in total.

My feet are Cold. Standing on the packed snow. The bus comes 45 minutes late. Standing room only. There was eight of us standing. My feet are freezing. The heat is working it’s the floor so cold.

45 minutes later I get off. Lancaster brewery is at the stop so I go in to warm up. Having a winter warmer brew my feet get warm and I’m able to walk on the packed snow sidewalk s without feeling cold again.

Joy of joy there’s warm food . And a lovely wife. Fed and warmed we off to the nieghbers for a game night, what a great way to end a week. 

The game is a bracket game like basketball. This or that and you vote on the winner. Majority rules. Some where bears or wolf. Sticky or slimy, toe nails or knuckles.

It’s fun, but as one debates you get a metephiscle and moral and epistemology aspects. Like under water or underground. Ecology,life sustainable support of the planet. 

I slept well.

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parked in

the door closes in my brief moment of making “it” right. left yet again in my introverted insecurities i fail to meet my own or anybodies expectation.

i get so mad at drivers who feel its their duty to direct traffic at stop signs. i honk in madness. then i realize my phone is missing. call my phone i ask, where was i last. o hasten to the scene . at the counter it was found some one picked it of the road and walked it in. o it could have been. so much worse.

sleep comes as it does now with a shiver and and wish. but i close the door. why am i me? cant i see. fire place fire in the morning flashes warmth, aaahh.

100 pushups blood flowing. walk to bus a simple breeze.

dogs growl, what ?

is this my emotion journal? are there those that really wonder at the time?  in drive bring it to the road ahead, the heart spirit my come latter.

warrior poet? na just a punk in grey


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Posted in bus commute, depression, journal, life over 50, old age, random thought, Warrior Poet

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