Because it has been too close all year.

Because I don’t know that I have much to say.

What is more scary to me is that so many have so much less to say. I went to a funeral – three weeks ago – at a relatively liberal church in my community. They were unwilling to say anything… Or maybe they had nothing to say. Maybe they were so busy deconstructing the Bible they forgot to see if it had anything to say – I don’t know. I just know that at the funeral they had nothing to say. Luckily my friend’s sister had good things to say.

I suppose my main message, from what I can tell about Jesus and the story he is telling is, “This is not the way it is supposed to be…” Seems like Jesus did a lot less comforting with the idea of Heaven than we (evangelicals… showing my cards: I am an evangelical) often do. Seems like he was moved by death, and he needed to provide a more powerful – yeah, material – redemption.

2 other things (I could expand the above one for pages… But I won’t).

Why do we want knowledge? Is knowledge power, or is it just more knowledge? Or, is it a distraction to the grief process?

One of my friends died a few weeks ago and we do not know why. I think last year I would have wanted to know (she was in her 20’s). I do not care as much now. I wish I knew her better. I was greatly appreciative of the stories told at the funeral – and of the space provided by the men presiding over the service to grieve, to enjoy, to think and pray (not the liberal, local church – this was actually a collaborative effort). I do not think knowledge is always power.

I was going to write about Hell, and how I am glad that the picture of God in the Bible punishes sin… But, I’m not sure I can muster the energy to do it any justice (pun not intended). Somehow, in my heart, these areas are all very tied.

I have resolved to assume less.

I wonder what life will be like when I can pull that off to some extent?

I think I will be a better man, husband, friend, etc.

So, I’m about to leave for a Men’s Retreat, and don’t have time to write much. What will be interesting is to see if Rachel reads this/views this post while I am gone!

She is great about knowing that both of us add things to the girls’ lives that are indispensable and often cannot be manufactured by the other… But, sometimes doesn’t ‘feel good’ when she sees pictures like this one.

So, when I saw the Sixth Sense I was late. It made it a far more intriguing movie. I remember later seeing a shirt that said, “I see stupid people… they are everywhere… they always want to talk to me.” I thought that the shirt was funny.

Today I heard the 60th story of a stupid person, responding stupidly to a friend of mine who is in crisis. We talked it over for awhile – attempting to become sad, rather than angry and offended.

Reminds me of when people ask me if they can do anything when it is clear I am hurting. I know they mean well, and it is a hair better than “how are you doing”, but I would like to have each of them sit with me and we would talk about how it is harder… but better, to simply say “I’m sorry this is going on”, or “I don’t have the words… I’m sorry” (cheesy – sure).

I can’t get my head around my own desire to fix, much less anyone else’s. But, I am more and more aware of when we are left with margin – some answers, but not all. Some hope, but not so much that we aren’t consistently in pain. Some ability to see beauty, but some obscurity even in that.

Right this second what saves me (honestly it has been saving me for a few weeks now), is a robust definition of the Gospel of Jesus. My old pastor used to say, “You’re a mess and you’re loved”, and he would sometimes spend a few moments really stressing the second. I would add, “and you have a role to play in the great story… You’re a mess, you’re loved, and you have a role to play in the story.” It really helps, it really applies everywhere, I really preach it to myself on a regular basis, it really helps me not be intimidated by my worldview source – the Bible… it doesn’t make the pain go away, but it takes the pain seriously and seems to offer robust answers to really awful and difficult questions.

Thoughts?

Discuss…

And, I thought that others should get to enjoy what is often so special about that…

I wonder often about the word Substance. I think it is because I often wonder if knowing Jesus offers a substance to my life and to the world, whereas not knowing Him might lead one into a less and less substantive life. I’m not smart enough to exegete my own sentence, but sometimes I am very struck by the lack of substance of the things that upset us on silly days, and then on other days the substance is very thick.

Yesterday was a hard day. It didn’t help that I overate (probably because it was a bad day) at lunch and made myself even more tired.

Luckily, I had the presence of mind to run to the park with Caroline. It rained lightly (which helped honestly), and Caroline seemed the only person or thing of substance to me… I love Julia and my wife, but hadn’t seem them much and had been in school most of the morning. School seemed hollow and less meaningful than I hope it will feel on other days.

I realize I was angry. My grief has moved away from my other loved ones and is becoming more selfish – not in a bad way. What I mean is that I am thinking and dealing with it relative to my heart rather than worrying (only) about my mom or my brother or my grandmother.

I have the same answers about death and suffering and the world that I had before this. The answers seem the same – substantive, but not exhaustive. God still seems to me to be good, but the world a bit messier. I love so many things about C.S. Lewis’ statement, “Do not come to me with spiritual answers or I will suspect that you do not understand.”

I’m doing well today (hence the ability to blog). I do not know how I will feel tomorrow. Mom offers me a lot of strength, my girls offer a lot also.

Blogs are funny so I will give medium depth to this one.

I have buried 3 men in the past year who I respect as much as any men I know. Two grandfathers and my mother’s husband. My paternal Grandfather was last december, and the other two were in the last three weeks.

Geeps/Jim Blazer Sr. was a good man. He was married over 60 years, his funeral was huge, and I loved him. He loved well – his wife, his four children, his many many grandchildren and great-grandchildren. I could go on and sound like an obituary, btu I know that he loved well. I know that when my parents were together he called my mom, “Pretty lady”. I know that he didn’t see her for almost 20 years, and when he saw her at my graduation he said, “Hey there pretty lady.”

Richard Jorgensen loved my mother well. He was the most “man’s man” I ever knew. He was drafted to play minor league ball, he had a hit record in the 50’s, he was the president of a bank, and he married up to marry my mom. I performed the funeral, and it was easily the hardest thing I have ever done or participated in.

Donald Francis Toomey was a true Renaissance man. He was a successful professional photographer (took photos at the Nuremberg trials among other things), he was working on his second book about sacraments and missions in New Mexico (first book was on California missions and Father Junipero Serra), he made many local artists famous by writing about them in local magazines, he sold his collection of DH Lawrence books to the University of New Mexico for 25K (it was a big collection), he is the inspiration to many in our family for higher education, he stepped into a lot of gaps left by men in this family, and I didn’t even mention his PHd in Geology…

It has been a rough few weeks.

Tonight I hit a 3 pointer to put us up one 49-48 against a good team (semi-finals of our league). About two minutes later I hit another to tie it at 52… I almost cried running back down the court, I really did… It was just such a simple gift, but it felt so basically good to my heart. We lost, but I was 2-2… I would rather we had won, but I appreciated the gift. My mom (who is having a much worse week than me… and yet, people keep asking how she is doing) says to not feel guilty when little things feel good. So, I’m admitting it felt good. It has been a long hard couple of weeks. My three girls have been rocks of joy and fun. My mom is going to be okay, because she is awesome. And… they weren’t just gifts, I have shot several thousand 3 pointers… and Jody threw me two good passes.