Soon the unknown will
be re-known
the re-vealer is near
expand & opening up
new views, perspectives
& horizons
paths of plenty
littered with little
exactly. enough?!
new, baby, new
fears hasn’t the place you’ve given it
in the nervousness of that system
the un-self, valued.
knowing now; immeasurably worth it
good thing there is a guide
phew.
It’s been a while.
I wrote a lot of other things the last 3 years. Just nothing here. Sorry about that. And I don’t feel bad 🙂
Part of the lack of writing here has been a result of the inner/spiritual/emotional journey that I have been on in the midst of:
Midlife.
George Floyd – and many people before and since.
Pandemic.
Racial Injustice.
Violent rhetoric towards people who don’t live/believe/breath the way the people think they should.
What a season.
Had an experience a few weeks back that I would like to share.
A big pile of dirt…
…to go on top of the chicken wire
…that was placed in the flower beds
…that is protecting the 1183 bulbs that Sarah, my mom and my dad help me plant
…from the squirrels that love to munch on those bulbs
… for me, it would be like burying 1183 little Filet Mignons in the back yard
Chicken wire is a healthy boundary for my relationship with the squirrels.
Not writing here has been good for the past seasons. And having the ability to set boundaries is a great privilege that not many people have.
But now it is time again. To let what I’ve heard, learned, and feel led to share with all 31 of you who read this 🙂
Maybe you have placed some hidden chicken wire boundaries in your life as of late? As a way to protect/preserve/pickle the things you need to pay close attention to?
Maybe considering where to place more healthy hidden chicken wire boundaries is a place to consider spending some more time this weekend. For all of us!
Here we go!
(PS to the squirrels: “I see you and hear you”)
(PS to my friends – this post is to be continued. Cue the suspenseful Da Da dahhhhnnn music in your heads. The next post is entitled The Dirt Pile that Taunted (not long though))
Kevin
The first day of school was yesterday for our little boys.
J & B were absolutely pumped for a new year of school – new shoes, outfits (Goodwill!), and even hair product. Oh boy.
As we were pulling into the hustle and bustle of busses, parents and billions of kids at school, J was a bit quiet (RARE).
“Dad, my body feels weird.”
“Yea? Where is that feeling coming from?”
“I think I might be nervous”
LONG PAUSE….
ME – “Totally. It’s ok to be nervous. It’s a new school year and we haven’t been here in a while. You loved this place last year. I think you will grow to love it again and feel comfortable.”
“OK”
Later that night, I told Jackson that I get nervous too.
Every time I step onto Western Seminary’s campus I get nervous. I start to believe the lies “I’m not smart enough. This place is not for me. Nobody is going to care about what you are researching.”
When I step into a room of YL people, I get a little nervous. “Who will I sit by? Will they be interesting? Will I be? Do I belong here?”
Nerves, especially in transitions from summer to school, from one arena of work to another are normal.
Right?
At least they are for me and our boys.
Our boys are brave. I choose to follow their lead. And the courage that only God can give.
May we all face our fears. The little ones and the big ones. And may we face them together.
KE
Our backyard is muddy.
We have some serious drainage issues. Though 60 yards of dirt were installed last fall.
Ever feel like life is muddy too?
On the bottom of your boots type of muddy.
Don’t you dare track it in the house, type of muddy.
A “when will this get all cleaned up” type of messy.
But also full of the potential of the mysteries that lay dormant in the soil.
In the midst of mud…
M mom pointed out that the apple tree is blooming.
There might be a beauty just above the mud.
If we fix our gaze upward.
You see, all things are made right.
In an upward kind of God-centered way.
All of it.
Mud.
Apple Trees.
Our lives.
The End.
The Now (If we notice).
Made right.
That really good news.
May we not get suck in the mud, but rather enjoy the blossoms of our lives.
Fix upward and onward, friends…
KE
Giving is an interesting concept.
We are often in awe of people who give.
Without reservation.
With generosity.
With little thought of themselves.
Thankfulness ensues.
Is giving noble?
Something to esteem, publicly?
Something to elevate towards?
Something to verify with a plaque on a building or a logo in our banquet brochure?Â
A hope that we would be that thing. Someday?
Or is it natural?
In a “We Were Made For This” type of way?
Like, we are made it give. It. All.
Away?
Ourselves?
Our very lives?
Our time?
Our money?
Our space and place?
Anonymously.
Cheerfully.
Not out of obligation or guilt. But out of sanctification and honor.
May we ponder these things…
KE
39 is the first year where I have felt old.
Not super pumped about it.
Plantar Fascitis (thx spell check).
Nerve impingement (thx again spell check) in C6 and C7.
Chronic pain.
It’s gotten me grumpy. And sad a bit.
I’m learning to do the right things and notice when things are out of whack.
I have stretches and exercises that keep me moving.
It seems that we were made to grow.
To live.
To experience pain and the place where we can no longer fix ourselves.
It is redemptive in a way.
Relying on someone other than myself.
A method of wholeness that I do not possess.
I’d like to learn to live in hope instead of fear.
The hope of a new day. And a body that does not have male pattern baldness and back hair.
The hope of a new day when I keep learning to rely on God more than myself.
A new day is on each of our horizons.
KE
PS – I’m going to lay in my neck traction machine. It brings so much healing and hope!
Been to a T Ball game recently?
I have.
Last night.
And it was awesome!
8 kids huddled around the mound. None of them pitching. 3 of them playing in the dirt.
All waiting. Kinda. for the ball to come their way.
All swarming to the big swing of the ball off the bat – that went 13 feet from the Tee.
Wrestling for the chance to grab the slow roller and chuck it to first base.
Most of the time.
I’m struck by the joy of learning something new.
About not caring so much about the rules of the game.
About playing in the dirt.
About every kid getting an at-bat.
The equality is astounding and right.
The joy is real.
The coaching is superb. It’s like herding cats.
And, man, Capri Suns still rule the day.
May we all find joy in where we are. In the dirt, in the crowd, and in the struggle for what is right and good.
Especially when it means giving everyone an at-bat.
KE
I noticed something about myself the last couple of weeks that is new.
Tulips make me smile.
Like, in a beaming, goofy kinda way.
Ear to ear. Even when no one is looking.
Not only because of the Dutch blood in my veins.
But because I am a human who is learning to SLOW DOWN.
Kinda.
Not flowers in a vase. But ones growing from the ground.
IN MY YARD.
I’m a large fella. With a bald head. Piercing eyes, I’m told.
Though I can wear my heart on my sleeve, verbally, my face has a tendency to be a bit stoic at times.
Sometimes people wonder if I am mad.
I’m not.
I just don’t smile tons.
Sometimes.
My brain is constantly whirling around. In an invigorating kind of way.
Usually.
There are definitely things that make me smile. When the grass is cut, when my kids feel courageous and treat each other with a reasonable amount of respect.
When my wife loves her job, picks up her side of the bed, and puts the cap on the milk the right way.
But, lately, there has been something about those tulips that bring me deep joy. Enough that my face even shows it.
May our joy be deep seeded. May it be new and life-giving. May it surprise us as we walk through our front yards.
May we beam from ear to ear. And maybe even giggle.
When no one is looking, of course.
KE
scrum * skrəm/ * noun:RUGBY * noun: scrum; plural noun: scrums
I have this tendency to go at it alone.
“I got this God.”
“I’ll just work harder”
“I know the right people.”
I know that I have people around me in my personal life that are willing to walk with me – through thick and thin.
Though I have a great supervisor and colleagues, I’ve been noticing (for 2 years – I’m a little slow on the ‘ol uptake) that I needed something different professionally.
There are countless people that support our work in so many ways – what a gift.
I noticed a need for people to lock arms with me in a new way.
To get dirty.
To skin our knees together in mission.
I needed some people to get into the scrum with me.
I just met with one of these scrummers. And there are 6 others that have pledged to lock arms with me and with each other.
What a gift!
Who are you scrummin’ with?Â
KE
scrum * skrəm/ * noun:RUGBY * noun: scrum; plural noun: scrums
  1. an ordered formation of players, used to restart play, in which the forwards of a team form up with arms interlocked and heads down, and push forward against a similar group from the opposing side. The ball is thrown into the scrum and the players try to gain possession of it by kicking it backward toward their own side.
PS – one of the scrummers encouraged me to get back to blogging. I’ve missed it. I love it. I’ll try again 🙂
Kevin Eastway 