Day Two

The book I bought is called “40 Days of Decrease” by Alicia Britt Chole.

I have read the first two days and I give it a few thumbs up. Here is the thing though, I am not disciplined when it comes to reading, journaling, or praying. I start strong and then fade. Last year the church where we attend did a thing where they wanted the congregation to read a million verses in 2015. My contribution was to read exactly zero verses for the project. It wasn’t that I didn’t read my bible, I am sure I did, I just didn’t ever contribute to the church. I have a journal a friend gave me a few years ago and if you follow the dates that I journal it usually skips a month or two in between entries. I just do not have the discipline in my life to follow through with things like this.

All of that to say that I am proud that I read “Day Two” of the book and I hope to make it to “Day Three” before quitting. Day Two was about letting go of regrets and the Lord knows that I have plenty of those, but one that I will let go of today is the regret that I haven’t been a better disciplined follower and choose on this day to start over.

Here is to a new beginning on Day Two…

Day One

This week we had lunch after church at a Spring Creek BBQ in Fort Worth. Nothing amazingly special about that except that it was the same restaurant I had lunch at a few years ago with an angry couple over the current state of my youth ministry. The dad told me not too far into my lunch that I was the most cynical person that he had ever met. I remember wanting to thank him for the complement while dialing all of my buddies and letting them know the good news.

I have no idea how many years ago that was, but I want to believe that I have grown up some since then. But I am not sure I have outgrown my cynicism.

Today is Ash Wednesday.

While I am not Catholic, I still love the idea of the calendar and especially this season. When I was doing student ministry we tried to make this season before Easter special in some way. Sometimes that would be just talking about fasting, sometimes it was actually giving things up like red meat, and other times it was a full blow Ash Wednesday service at a Church of Christ. I connect with the next 40 days leading up to Easter because it helps me reflect.

I wasn’t sure what I was going to do this year. The last few years have been hit and miss with the Lenten season and I really had not put a lot of time or effort into it so far. Monday I Googled “best Lent devotional” books thinking that would help me prepare. I looked over the list and read some reviews, I decided on a book by a lady with the last name Chole. I went to a Barnes and Noble by my office and searched for the book. Oh well, strike one. Tuesday I had to be in Denton and drive past another Barnes and Noble. No go, strike two. I realize I could have asked someone to help me or ordered it off Amazon, but like I said…I wasn’t trying all that hard. Just enough to fool God into thinking I cared.

Today I dropped off Jensyn and really did not have a plan for work. I get to make my own schedule and so I just planned to head back to Weatherford to a few doctor’s offices and facilities and then go to a meeting at 2pm….

This is where I believe God changed my day.

And also where my cynicism glad rages out of control.

I got a text from a dear friend wanting to have lunch today. He asked where my meeting was and then determined where he wanted to eat and the time. I was already headed west and I look at my clock and decided I really didn’t have time to go back to Weatherford, took a random exit, turned around and came back Fort Worth. What to do with the extra hour I needed to kill? Hey, there is Barnes and Noble on Hulen, I’ll go there and kill some time.

I made sure I had the authors name right just in case the third Barnes and Noble had my book. I am admittedly bad at the alphabet and have to sing the song each time I go searching for letter combinations. “Cho…” comes after “Chi…” I am standing in the aisle of the third store, singing the alphabet in my head, and preparing to be not shocked this book isn’t sold here. I am deciding what to have lunch when my eyes see the book facing out. Not like the other books on the shelf with just the binding showing, no this book is staring at me.

I looked both ways half expecting Jesus to peak around the corner and laugh at the trick he had just played on me. I grabbed the book off the shelf, went back to Google to compare pictures, and then flipped through the book to make sure it wasn’t just a cruel joke or something.

I am a cynic.

Why can I not just enjoy the movement of God? Why can this case just be a simple “hello, I am real” from God? I move so quickly to dismiss the idea that God could have a hand it because my rational brain will not allow for the irrational parts. Only wackado’s think God cares what I read for Lent.

Or I can go all Job’s friends…surely I am just looking for God because I have something in my life that I am ashamed of. I “need” God to want me to read this book because it will get me penance. 

What if it was really just a cool God moment on a Wednesday in February?

I got my book. I’ll tell you the name later. But today is day 1 of Lent and I am going to try and let my cynicism go and see God for who I tell all of you he is…

The one where Jesus left...

Jesus appears to be everywhere these days. Jesus helps us sell our house or get the job we want or heal your wife’s leaky head. Jesus helps us win games and pass tests and blesses our food. He shows up in our social media feeds when we get pregnant and when we celebrate another marriage anniversary. Jesus seems to be everywhere and blessing everyone.

But this week some of us are asking where he went…

Mark 1:35-39 (NLT)

35 Before daybreak the next morning, Jesus got up and went out to an isolated place to pray. 36 Later Simon and the others went out to find him. 37 When they found him, they said, “Everyone is looking for you.”

38 But Jesus replied, “We must go on to other towns as well, and I will preach to them, too. That is why I came.” 39 So he traveled throughout the region of Galilee, preaching in the synagogues and casting out demons.

I connect with this passage for a lot of reasons. Jesus’ ministry starts right here (for Mark). He goes from town to town preaching, casting out demons, healing people, and continuing the story God. It also gives permission to introverts like me to leave crowds of people in search of isolation. But the passage has also always bothered me some.

Here is Jesus in the town of Capernaum. Before he leaves we find Jesus at the home of Simon and Andrew. Their mother is in bed with fever and Jesus goes to the house to heal her. From there Mark tells us that the whole town came to this one place with all of the sick and demon possessed. It says that Jesus healed “many” and drove out “many”.

What it doesn’t say is that he healed all of them. We are just told that he healed some, just not all. He leaves town even though the disciples tell him the people are still looking for him. By the looks of it, he leaves sick people at the house. He leaves demon-possessed people there waiting and moves on down the road to the next place. Jesus says he needs to get going and that’s it, he leaves.

Imagine sitting at that house and hearing Jesus that day. His words move you and his message of freedom is unlike anything you have ever heard. You watch your friend bring his mom to the house and Jesus heals her. You see people from work bring their grandparents or other loved ones and they get healed. The guy you always pass on the way into town, that you thought was crazy, this Jesus guy casts out a demon. Person after person passes and a simple touch of Jesus changes a life. You stay all night watching and slowly getting the courage to go home and bring your child. You rush back the next morning to hear more from Jesus and have him touch your son or daughter. You want your chance at the healing.

But he doesn’t show up.

After awhile you begin to ask everyone, “Where did Jesus go?” You begin to get anxious, then you feel yourself getting angry as you hear rumors that he has left town. Why? Why would he leave when there are still people here? It doesn’t make any sense when you think back to the things you heard him say. Surely he has just stepped out for a few minutes and will be back shortly.

Finally you decide he isn’t coming back. You and your son/daughter leave and for the next three years you hear about how Jesus is going from town to town preaching a radical message of love and healing people in every town. But all you are left with is an empty feeling. A feeling that the words were so powerful, the message of love so strong, but in the end you just keep wondering, “Where did Jesus go?”

I told my friend this week that God sucked. He had tragically lost his nephew and his father-in-law a few hours earlier and really the only thing that made sense to me was to tell him that God sucked. Sometimes I think Jesus leaves town and we don’t get to know why. Sometimes our lives aren’t as easy as a simple #Godsplan at the end of a status update or as perfect as the famous person quote promises. Sometimes, I think, God isn’t awesome like I want (go read Lamentations, they agree with me) and he leaves us to wrestle with it. We don’t get nice neat answers like we get from a good Max Lucado book. We just have to pack it up and go back home wondering why. Why did they get this or that and I didn’t?  Why was Jesus there for them at that time, but wasn’t for me here this time?

To my friend…I want you and your family to know that it is okay to think God sucks sometimes. I know there is no way to make it make sense right now. It doesn’t have to make sense this week. And it might not next week either. God is really big and does not get in a hurry. I promise he can handle whatever emotion you have. After all, he did pack up that day in Capernaum, left a crowd of hurt and sick people in town, and he walked off…you are reading this, so we know the story didn’t end there. All of that is for another time and space though.

Today, there will be no hollow words about eternal life and heaven and mansions just over the hilltop, we know they will not soothe the unexplainable pain of losing your father-in-law (husband, dad, or friend) and 14-year-old nephew (or son or grandson or friend). Sometimes silence is better than bullshit. So we are going to crawl up on the couch next to you, wonder where Jesus went together, and fight the urge to fill the space with words.

God, you are God. We know that. We just don’t understand all the why’s today. We are happy the story keeps going even when we cannot see it. We are overjoyed daily by grace and love and redemption. We are aware daily of the hope that one day all things will be restored and there will be no more tears, or pain, or death. But today, God, teach us to sit and wrestle with where you went this past Wednesday. To grieve and breathe. To be okay in the chaos of doubt and to be okay for now to admit sometimes you suck…

Fogging

Some days (April 1, 2015) I wish my life was awesome like the people who I see at church on Sunday's, at Central Market, and everywhere else. I hear their stories as I pass by them, those people who don't have car problems or job problems or kid problems. You know the ones I'm taking about right? They are the ones who look good when they tuck in their shirt and have hair that can actually be brushed. That is them over there; the ones with six figure salaries and a savings account that rivals Fort Knox. They are way more awesomer than me. 

I wish I was more like everyone else that isn’t me. Like all the people who take chances and never ever fail at stuff. One of the millions of humans who wake up to sunshine and rainbows everyday. I wish I could have a page of super spectacular quotes that other people posted as their status on Facebook. That would be so cool. 

Today is one of those days I don't really fancy being me. It's not working out like I want and I just want to be someone else for a little while. I’d pick one of those people who has a kick ass life all the time. Probably like yours…just not like mine today.

I can tell you how I believe I got here: People fail. God doesn't give us everything we want. People suck. Grad school is legit. And hospice is sad…like the “everyone I meet dies” kind of sad.

Woe is me.

My body is tired. My hair is grayer. My wallet is lighter. My patience is thinner. My communion is more distant. My desire is waning. 

But...

I get paid this week. Stacey kissed me good-bye this morning. I turned 35 this year. My youngest ate all her breakfast today. My oldest can buckle herself in. My dogs love me. My parents still claim me. And I'm having steak for dinner tonight.

Today that little voice we all have won. Today that voice told me I didn’t matter and I needed to be something else. Or someone else. That if I wanted to matter, I need not be me. I have a friend who calls it “fogging”. She says it’s the male version of PMS. Today I fogged out big time.

Then Jensyn started singing, “Jesus Loves Me” on the way home from school.

I am really glad God loves me. Not the “me” that I think I need to be to make you happy or make work turn around or home better, but the “me” that sucks and fogs every couple of weeks. The “me” that fails and smells. I am happy that God doesn’t see Shane like I see Shane. Seems silly to say that, but I really am. Maybe for the first time in my life I am learning that God loves me in my present form. Sure, he wants me to be better, do better, and live better…but today (April 1, 2015) he loves this me right here.

Goal tomorrow: remember this earlier in the day and get more awesome at quotes…

The time 350 people died...

January 2nd, 2011 was my last official Sunday as a paid youth pastor. I spent the next few weeks riding around with a few other chaplains, hanging out with friends, and checking things off a to-do list. January 17th I went to work at Alpha Omega Hospice for the first time. 

That first morning was easy...dressed in my best slacks and pressed shirt, I smiled and nodded and tried to remember as many names as I could. Staff meeting, on-call reports, and free breakfast were a breeze. We prayed, people left, and it was time to get hospicing. 

Stopped at Staples for pens, a new folder, highlighters, and some paper clips. Got everything sorted in my shiny new Alpha Omega satchel and Googled my first address...it was off to Arlington. 

I parked the car ready to head inside and bring Jesus to the masses, comfort to the dying, and basically revolutionize hospice chaplaincy. I was sure I was destined to start my world-wide speaking career in a few short weeks. 

Then I started crying. Uncontrollable sobbing ensued. I realized I had absolutely no idea what I was doing and I wanted to go back and be a youth minister. I knew about teenagers, parents, pizza, summer camp, and had an endless supply of ice-breakers. What the hell did I know about old, dying people in nursing homes?

So I cried. 

Since then (by my best count) I've lost close to 350 people with whom I had some sort of contact before they died. Anywhere from just talking to the family to actually being there when they passed away. I've done somewhere around 50 funerals. The vast majority of which I had little or no connection to the person other than a few small conversations with them or a family member. The oldest person was 102 and the youngest was 33. 

I do a job that will shut down any small talk after a person asks "so what do you do for a living?" My answer almost always gets an empathic sigh and quick change of subject.

I get it, death sucks and makes us uneasy. We don't talk about death at church unless it is to speak of heaven and mansions over hill tops. We don't teach our people how to care for and walk with people and families struggling with things like dementia, Alzheimer's, or cancer. We try our best to avoid the end of life if at all possible. 

Four years later I cry less. I have a little better idea of what I'm doing and that makes it much more enjoyable. Death and dying have something to teach us. Yes, it can make us cry, but I promise it can make us laugh and smile.

I've never been into doing New Year resolutions. I fail at them by the end of the first week, but maybe this year will be different. So here is to a year of sick, dying people and the wonderful team of people who care for them from my perspective...

10 for 5

There was a moment in July or early August where I looked at Stacey and the girls and thought "welp, we did it. Made it through that!" The nights became easier to sleep. The days away became easier to handle. The fear of a leak or a bubble slowly went away.  She got stronger. She started school. We are now fully into our routine: up, dressed, breakfast, work/school, home, dinner, dishes, baths, bed, repeat. June 11th seems so long ago in a lot of ways. 

So naturally I believe that God should now be done with the Utley's. We learned over this last summer that we are not in control. She laid flat for 17 days and I tried my best to keep things going and we both learned...we aren't in control. 

Last week I tried to make a deal with God. I tried to get him to agree to a 10 for 5. (Look, it's hospice, so I get this is horrible in ways..but I wanted 10 new admissions for 5 deaths. We are in need of one of those runs where the admissions out gain the deaths. It's business.)

Yes, I prayed for this multiple times over the last 7 days. Wanting to make God move the direction I wanted him to move. Baiting God. Trying to get him to prove he could do it. 

God had until today to make good on our 10 for 5 deal. Final score: 4 admits and 6 deaths. 

I'm glad God has a sense of humor. 

Basically I thought I was done learning the lessons of letting go.  That I received a PhD in giving up control. I thought we had come through the fire and we high-fived God and now it was time to get back to normal. It was time for things to be easy again. That we had proven our worth and somehow now God owed me some favors. 

Last week I tried to turn in my "Jesus Bucks" for some patients. I had brought my bible to class, I knew the memory verse, I was dressed in my Sunday best...now God needed to give me my shiny prize. 

Letting go. Giving up control. Life. Whatever you want to call it is hard. There is no promise that because your wife has 4 brain surgeries or someone steals your money from you that you'll get something awesome the next go around. I wish I could tell you something different. Trust me, it would make my job so much easier.

"The movement in our relationship to God is always from God to us. Always. We can't, through our piety or goodness, move closer to God. God is always coming near to us. Most especially in the Eucharist and in the stranger."

Nadia Bolz-Weber

This year has been crazy. This has been the hardest year of my (young) life. But despite some of my best efforts, God keeps coming closer. He shows up in the people and places that I go. He uses them to whisper "let it go" to me again and again. 

I'm trying. Hang with me. 

The one with a whale...

“So, GOD, if you won’t kill them, kill me! I’m better off dead!” 

GOD said, “What do you have to be angry about?” 

But Jonah just left. He went out of the city to the east and sat down in a sulk. He put together a makeshift shelter of leafy branches and sat there in the shade to see what would happen to the city.

(Jonah 4:3-5 MSG)

I read Jonah the other day. It was bible study day at the nursing home and Jonah is a good and short book to read. 

Four things stood out:

First, lets all try and stop reading the Bible to find quick answers and try hard to read it as a story. And also get rid of all the quick reference lists as well. No more "are you angry? Need more money? Just read this passage" type stuff. I really don't think that's why it's inspired. Try it. Go read David and Goliath because you want to get lost in a story, not because you are looking for some way for it to help you and I'll bet you find something you never saw. 

Second observation...sure God wanted the boat to turn around. The wind and the waves were God's idea. The idea of Jonah being in the water, drowning...that was on the guys in the boat and Jonah. God did not punish Jonah by making a whale eat him. Maybe you know that, but I didn't really remember it that way from Sunday school. I remembered Jonah disobeyed God and then a whale swallowed him. So naturally, God punished Jonah by having him eaten. Not true. The whale (big fish) actually saved Jonah. He was drowning and overcome with waves, so God sent a whale to save him...because God is in the saving business. 

Third observation...I'm with Jonah after Nineveh repents. They are, by all accounts, pretty awful people. Yes they repent, I get that part, but I still want my God in the punishment business when it comes to the people I deem "bad"...even if they repent. 

I said this a few posts back, but I'd like to give God my list of people to have four brain surgeries if he'd just ask me. I look around at the people in and around my life and I'm pretty sure by my calculations most of them are worse than me. (No, of course not you reading this! The bad ones.) How can God continue to bless and not punish them but not me?

No, no forget my precious wife and the house and the cars and food and health insurance and good kids and loving families and pay checks and clothes and shoes and a playroom my kids can't open the door to for all the toys and the giant flat screen TV...I'm talking about all the real blessings like the other people I think shouldn't have them get. 

Hop inside my head and you'll hear prayers to God about how I seriously doubt he knows what he's doing. You'll see how quickly I go all Jonah when someone else's life turns around or a blessing comes or a test is negative. Come with me and scroll through my social media...you can hear my thoughts and opinions on who does and who doesn't deserve the nice vacation they're posting about. 

The fourth thing I learned reading Jonah out loud...I tend to miss the moments when God does the amazing because I'm scrolling through Instagram pouting. I've become really good at looking at you and being annoyingly bitter about how great I think you have it. 

I'm sorry. 

It really is dumb. Dumb to assume I need to understand the story better than God needs me to. It's ridiculous to think I have to grasp God's who, what, when, where, and how totally for it to be "right and fair".

I've missed the beauty of redemption because I am way to caught up in how it came about. I've been busy questioning grace in those around me and not busy enough enjoying their grace in front of me. 

I'm really sorry. 

I don't know if I'll get better or not. I'm sure going to try though. I don't want to miss anymore more beauty. I'm starting to annoy myself. 

Maybe I need a whale...

(un)Forgetting

Thank you. 

Thank you if you've read a status update and prayed. Thank you if you've read this and prayed. Thank you if you did either of those and said you'd pray and then forgot...that counts, we'll take it. Thank for the cards and gifts and money and food and more food. For the texts and messages and emails. For stopping me at Walmart and telling me it's okay to lie when you ask how we are. Thank you for sitting in the corner of a waiting room and not giving me easy answers. Thank you for showing up without asking, just because presence matters. If we have ever crossed your mind in the midst of your own chaos and life, THANK YOU. 

Today makes it one week. One week since we walked out of Harris and drove home. We made it two thirds of the way home and her back (lumbar drain site) started leaking. We turned around, both crying, and headed to the ER. Doctor told us to turn back around and go home and lay flat. So we did. She in the bed, me in the recliner across the room. 

"Here we go again" is all I could think. Every move she made was monitored. I stared at her incision, willing it closed. Changing her bandage and begging that a hole I could barely see to seal. It was like getting back on that roller coaster you really wish you could never ride again. I'm such a disciple. 

I've been digging around the Gospels and the stories of the disciples with Jesus. More and more I find myself drawn to them. They seem really human and I really like human. 

How long was it before Peter forgot he walked on water with Jesus? What about after they all enjoyed the wine at the party, how long before the forgot? They see him feed 5,000 and then call him a ghost. Over and over again they saw Jesus do something amazing and a chapter later they are booking it back to Emmaus. 

We have a cool story to tell. We have been blessed beyond measure. She's home, she's laughing, she's giving me orders again, and she's dry. Call me crazy, but I believe God told me a few Saturdays back to tell her he'd fix her. That he'd heal and seal her. I believe he invited us out into the water, held our hands when we got scared, didn't hesitate, and helped us walk out of that 5th floor. 

But she got a headache two nights ago and I forgot. Im such a disciple. 

"Hey Jesus, what have you done for me lately?"

I got lost in fear and anxiety. I scolded Jesus for not making this easy. I wondered, again, where he was. I'm such a disciple. 

The cool thing about reading through the Gospels...Jesus never quits or gets tired of them forgetting. He meets them on the road back to Emmaus, appears through locked doors, and even makes them breakfast on the beach. He keeps showing up and being Jesus. I'm grateful for that. 

"It's so tempting to believe that God, too, operates from the scarcity principle. But there is always enough grace. Always and ever enough." Rachel Held Evans

Try and not forget. You will. I will. We will together, probably sometime today. But try. Try and remember that God never quits, never stops running, never stops healing and sealing, never ever stops being God just because you forget. 

Keep us in your prayers and thank you for the radical hospitality you have showed my family. 

#teamhealandseal

Without hesitation

Peter, suddenly bold, said, “Master, if it’s really you, call me to come to you on the water.” He said, “Come ahead.” Jumping out of the boat, Peter walked on the water to Jesus. But when he looked down at the waves churning beneath his feet, he lost his nerve and started to sink. He cried, “Master, save me!”

Jesus didn’t hesitate. He reached down and grabbed his hand. Then he said, “Faint-heart, what got into you?” 

(Matthew 14:28-31 MSG)

Jesus didn't hesitate. There was no teaching Peter a lesson on the part of Jesus. There was no letting him almost drown and then reaching for him. No committee meeting was called. Jesus didn't hesitate. 

When I've read this story, and others, in the past I've always seen stern Jesus there at the end. The Jesus who is upset because Peter sank and he had to save him. Like Jesus was mad at the lack of faith. I have the ingrained idea that Jesus walked around annoyed because the disciples were dumb. I have no idea where it comes from, but I find myself reading the Bible as if Jesus is always perturbed with the humans in his life. Maybe it's because I have the whole story in my hand and because I think they're dumb, Jesus probably does as well. 

This journey we are on has made me read the Bible a little different recently. Not so much from a place of superiority or as the self help book we pitch in our churches. I read it now because in the quite places, when I'm scared out of my mind, I need to know that Peter sank and Jesus didn't hesitate. 

(Side note: Where we read the Bible matters. Don't ever forget that.)

When I read it in The Message I even see Jesus smile as he asks, "what got into you?" I like smiling Jesus a lot. I like smiling Jesus when I'm going down the elevator trying to escape the 5th floor, praying the bandage is dry, freaking out, then remembering God is going to fix her, and Jesus smiles and says to me "what's got in to you?"

And he doesn't hesitate. 

He doesn't get mad at my lack of faith. 

He doesn't punish me for looking at the waves and feeling the wind rage around me. 

He doesn't wait for my bargain.

And He doesn't hesitate to grab my hand.  

And yes, we are still dry. 

#teamhealandseal

Holy Saturday

The Saturday between the crucifixion and resurrection has always fascinated me. Yes, the book-end days are where we spend our Easters, but there is something about that Saturday. 

God was dead, now what?

I have to think that not all the followers scattered in fear. Not all of them hid out. Not all of them packed it up and went back home. Some of them waited. Some of them tried to piece together conversations and ideas from Jesus, looking for a slice of hope. A hope that said...maybe, hopefully something we can't see yet is about to happen. 

Imagine going to work, having a meal, taking a walk, or just trying to be normal that Saturday. Waiting. Hoping. Then losing hope. Remembering something HE said. Then having hope again. And waiting more. 

Faith was born on that Saturday. 

We are still watching a drain. We wait for a drip and then count the seconds until the next drip. It's maddening to wait and yet thrilling when it drops. Each time they roll Stacey over to check her incision and bandage is pure anxiety overload, then they tell us it's dry and we relax until the next shift change. We try and piece information together from doctors and nurses for some glimmer of hope. We try and block out the negative noise that gets overwhelmingly loud at times and remember to encourage each other. To hold hands and shut up. We reach for the next small victory. We hope and wait. 

In the next few days we will challenge the incision and drain. We will begin to find out how much healing has happened. 

But I can't help but feel like I'm walking into that Saturday between Good Friday and Easter Sunday. The space where faith is born. The place that is scary and unknown. The place where demons haunt you and anxiety runs rampant. Did it heal? What if? Why didn't you do this or that? The place where all is quite except those voices you wish you could shut off...

But I want with everything I am to believe that Sunday will come. That new is just around the corner. That dark always gives way to light. That Stacey's dura has sealed and we can go home. We can begin anew. I tell my shower walls and car windshield every morning that "I believe". 

And I do believe. I really do. We will get better and not bitter. But she and HE still have some work to do. She's got a few more days of laying on her back. A few more days of waiting and watching a drain. A few more shift changes. There is still some fight left. 

But I saw her smile that infectious smile today. The one that got me 13 years ago. The smile that's been absent for three long weeks. It was just another step towards the new... 

Here we come Sunday. 

I believe. 

#teamhealandseal