Jon C. Swanson's Blog, page 11

The next half.

Today is the start of the next half of 2025.

I started the day a little early, with a phone call to go to the hospital to help a family in the first minutes after the death of their person. Ten minutes later, I got a call that the family wasn’t going to the hospital. Our overnight chaplain would talk with them by phone.

I won’t know their story until I get to work, until I talk with him. But it’s not my story to help tell. This chapter ending, their next steps.

I know you well enou...

A prayer for the thirteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

God.

We need you.

Even when we don’t think we do, we need you.

Not so much to fix things, which is what we think we want: fix my relationships, fix my body, fix my car.

We don’t so much need to you to do things: move mountains, make miracles, save me.

We need you to love us and to welcome us and to care about us.

Because, God, we could live with a broken car if we knew for sure that you knew, and that you cared, and that you were powerful.

(Are powerful, I mean. I don’t w...

About, caring.

Some friends of mine were caring for another friend who died recently. (People care for other people all the time.)

When I was talking with one of those friends, I said, “You all cared about him, not just cared for him.” 

It was one of those times that I made a note of what I said. I want to remember it. 

You can care for people you don’t care about. It happens all the time. And I’ve done it. You and I are not being mean, we’re being professional, we’re appropriately doing our work. ...

Starting new, again.

Some of you remember that I used to post pictures of coffee mugs on Instagram. And I’d write something.

For that season, the mug photo was a message to my friend Brian that I had gone for a run that day. It was an act of accountability, I suppose. But it was mostly and acknowledgement that I knew he cared and was cheering.

For most people, it was a photo of a mug. And that was its own accountability.

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I haven’t been running since October, for a handful of reasons. But I’m w...

A prayer for the twelfth Sunday in ordinary time

God-

Elijah lived a long time ago. But he isn’t so different.
He wanted to be safe.
He wondered why you let him down.
He was exhausted.
He wondered why bad people had the power.
He was afraid.
He wanted to tell you his complaint more than he wanted to hear your explanation.

We confess that we are like Elijah, sometimes.
We do good things. We expect good results.
We see your power for others. We predict how it should work for us.
We confess that we are unwilling to trust in you.

But we confess...

Raspberries

Raspberries are not my favorite fruit.

The tiny seeds are annoying. The stalks have bristles. There are often mosquitos around our yard when we might be wading in to pick them.

And yet.

Eaten by a three-year-old within seconds of being on the bush, they are wonderful.

There are things that are wonderful.

Just reminding us of that.

Love around.

Dear KG.

I took some time off from writing. But I’m okay. Thanks for asking.

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A few weeks ago, Ben’s aunt got married. His dad’s sister. Ben was assigned to a table at the reception. Along with his mom and dad. And his dad’s parents. And his mom’s parents. And his uncle (dad’s sister). Every seat at his table was filled with his people. The people who love him. Who care about him. Who care for him. Who make him laugh.

And the people who are very aware that he is three. We all a...

A prayer for Trinity Sunday

God.

We need to talk with you about how we feel right now.
Because in this place, in this land, in this world, there are troubles.

You told us, Jesus, that in this world there would be troubles.
We can’t say you didn’t warn us.

But in this place this week and in this land this week and in this world this week, it feels like lots of people I know, and we each know of, are harried and hurting and hollow.

Lives shouldn’t end before they start.
Slow declines shouldn’t become sudden ends...

Restarting from the dirt.

Someday soon, this road will be rebuilt. It will be a smooth connection between our subdivision and the next.

In the meantime, it’s been a terrible connection between our subdivision and the next.

Sometimes the whole street was closed. Sometimes half was open but went from concrete to gravel. Sometimes walking was the only way through.

Sometimes you can’t keep filling potholes or paving layer upon layer. Sometimes you have to take things down to the dirt.

You know your life. ...

Working like a three-year-old.

There is dirt between the brick facade of our house and the back row of iris. It is perfect if you are three and appreciate “construction vehicles”.

Before Ben, who is three, finished his work on Sunday afternoon, he got his construction vehicles ready for the next workday, whenever that may be. They aren’t lined up against the wall the way he does it sometimes. Instead, they are ready for the workers to start working.

The obvious adult lesson is that we could prepare our work like B...