Dear Eugene

Dear Eugene, The morning is dark and wet.  I looked out the window and tried to see something new. I sought not merely a new perspective, new depth, new scope, new discovery, but a new creation, a renewal of the old because history matters, a new birth because the old only matters in light of the new beginning. Christmas is the beginning of a new beginning. We opened our gift, liked, even loved what we saw.  But what are we to do with it?  The baby is so weak, fragile, vulnerable; what difference would it make in the scheme of things?  Three years of ministry, sayings, doings, a match barely stays lit and you can see the end coming fast and strong; let go of it quick lest you burn yourself. His friends let go of him when he needed them the most. Gift unwrapped.  Once liked 👍, even loved, now dispensable.  Like last December's Facebook post.  Meanwhile another war broke out, another child died, another bullet flied, another stomach left emp...

Dear Eugene, my pastor, my friend, Hardly a day goes by without your words lingering in my head and my reflecting on them; I might as well write them down, lest I forget. We are all forgetful, and I suppose that's why you would often say the same thing in twenty different ways.  Thank you for taking the risk, even shame, to appear naggy.  Sometimes I would laugh/cry out loud at the sudden, rude realization of how I could forget to live likewise, the very next second after I heard your words, like my life is one big tragicomedy, contortion and incongruity abound. I thank God for these tapping fingers and my noisy keyboard--I like how they dance on it, mis-stepping more often than I want--and, as such, most of all, for the "Backspace" button.  I shall never take for granted the ability and freedom to turn flesh into words, as I shall forever be grateful for the many second chances. Yours, Alex