Like I told the Facebook world, I spent most of the day crying on Easter. It was obviously a very emotional day. First think I was up at 6:00 to sing at the sunrise service and that’s enough to make anyone cry (well me.) It was bit chilly but not like it was last year. Singing went fine, we did this kind of old fashioned-y “Easter Anthem.” No, that’s really what it was called, creative right? Joyce preached the sermon for the morning service, and it was great. I think she’s getting to be a really great preacher. I love that she always uses personal stories, it’s really brave and vulnerable, and it really makes the message seem sincere.  She was discribing a scene from a movie to illustrate a point. 

There was little boy in a consentration camp that got assinged to cleaning the commander’s bathroom. One day he stole a used bar of soap and brought it back to his teenaged friend to show it off.   The theft was soon discovered and everyone was called together to be questioned.  Just as the boy was holding his hand out with the soap, his friend snachted it away and yelled out that he had the soap.  He was shot on the spot.

Wow… that got me.  There is just something about sacrificial love.  Someone else taking the blame.  It’s real easy to say “Jesus died for our sin.”  But it’s good to feel it sometimes.

We had bruch of Sam’s pastries and frozen fruit, not quite the Easter spread we get in Pensacola.  But when Cynthia sat on one of the said pastries that almost made up for it.  That kind of made me cry too, with laughter.

For 8:30 service we were in the sactuary.  The theme for Clarke’s sermon was transformation, and we used butterflies to decorate the window sills and we brought in potted plants to the narthex.  During the service we added butterfly garden stakes to the plants… you know like the tranformation had just taken place.  It was very pretty and colorful, but a little less impactful than it could have been because our narthex is a bit cluttered (my hospitality workshop told me that’s not a very welcoming thing.)    That work great for 8:30 but the service was so long that the 9:45 people were already waiting and saw them before the other service let out.

The thing during 8:30 that made me cry was the lady that was sitting next to me in the pew.  We had a bunch of kids, of course, and they were all being cute during the children’s sermon.  But the whole time the lady who was maybe in her late fourties was holding her husband’s hand and weeping.  I don’t know anything more than that, what happened, if she had a loss.  She was just sitting there in pain.  Besides my empathy for her, I just thought about all the other people who feel pain and regret during happy times.

Then I had to teach Sunday School, which was maybe a little too creative.  I took the kids to the 9:45 service to remove the butterflies from the plants, and to watch my friends play in the pickup band that was playing that day.  Then we had our lesson outside, which was a bit challenging and distracting for my little people.  Then we went back to play Easter symbol memory, which is always the biggest hit ever.  They love it.  Cokesbury must be up on their developmentally appropriate materials (I think I want that job) because they always include at least three memory card sets for each unit.

Then I had my Easter Whataburger meal and had a laundry and movie day.  That night was the Tallahassee episode of Extreme Makeover: Home Edition.  Which was just sad in the classic, human interest story way.  You can watch it for yourself.  But that was so sad.

I told my Sunday Schoolers that Easter is the happiest day of the year.  For me it was little crazy too.

What’s more beautiful: a mistake or something done on purpose? Or is there a necessary difference? An accident in the paint store that comes out as the Mona Lisa, or the Mona Lisa itself? If there’s no objective difference, which is better? Come up with some more examples then decide for yourself.

Know what’s cool looking?

November 17, 2008

I was on my way to Walmart to do some grocery shopping, and I was sitting waiting to turn on Tennessee street when I say this glow in the sky.  It took me a few minutes to figure it out but it was a hot air balloon that was down the street at the Ford dealership; they were having some sort of party.  The flames flickered so that it looked like a gigantic candle, and then when the flames would go out you couldn’t see it at all.  Way cool.

I got flowers

November 7, 2008

flowers

They match my blog.

My Fall Wreath

October 16, 2008

Yeah Smith and Hawkin

Graphjam

indexed

My favorite comedy… How I Met Your Mother presents the Hot/Crazy Scale

Vodpod videos no longer available.

It’s just a pig nose

July 21, 2008

My Netflix selection of the week was Penelope, another fairy tale. Overall I think it was a good movie. The progam makes suggestions as to what movies you’ll like based on what other people with similar taste think. They guessed a 4.6 star rating for me, which I think is the highest rating that has ever shown. It makes sense because I love movies like Ella Enchanted, Ever After, Mr. Magorium’s Wonder Emporium, and Stardust. And I think that Pushing Daisies is my second favorite fiction series (I have a thing for reality TV and How I Met Your Mother.)

Here’s the premise. Penelope has a pig’s nose (and ears too but we never see them) because she is the first born daughter of a family which is cursed. In order to break the curse she must find someone to marry. Her parents keep her hidden away so that she doesn’t face ridicule and bring in suitors to get to know her while she is behind a one way mirror. When she is rejected one too many times she leaves home to claim her own life and learn to love herself.

Here’s my problem. It’s just a pig nose. A cute little pig nose that’s attached to the rest of Christina Ricci’s beautiful face, hair, and body. Now I think it is clear that all the other characters’ reaction to Penelope is exaggerated for effect (one of her dates even throws himself out of the second story window ala the Cowardly Lion when he sees her.) We are supposed to think “gee isn’t it great how she can overcome all the negative reaction to her deformity in order to become a self actualized person. Maybe I can do that too.” The problem is that to any realistic person her deformity is not repulsive and may actually be charming. What would they have done to her if something about her really was disturbing? Penelope’s message may help girls get over their gap teeth, or freckles, or big forehead, but what about people who face serious issues… real deformity. I don’t think we need a feel good film for that first group. Maybe if they spent some time with someone who is in a wheel chair or has had a stroke or any other number of real problems, they’d gain some perspective and celebrate the pig nose like the rest of us.

You know I’m such a ham, yeah, yeah, yeah I am.

Triangle Hair

July 3, 2008

I’m not alone. I used to go into the salon and say “I get triangle hair, like the girl from Dilbert, you know? Can we thin it out or layer it or something?” Sometimes it worked other times not. I think the worst was when I went to Walmart in Lakeland to get my hair cut before graduation. The girl took the ends and like cut them on an angle. I guess that’s what she thought I meant by layers, but I think it just accentuated the triangleness (one of many reasons to boycott Walmart). And I thought I was the only one.

But on “Shear Genius” last night one of the contestants cut a girl’s super curly hair in two layers, short underneath and medium on top. One of the judges said “don’t you think that will grow into a pyramid when she gets outside?” The contestant was unconcerned but the judge was and so was I.

And my friend Nancy blogged about the fabulous experience that she had at Ouidad, a salon in NYC that specializes in cutting curly hair to avoid pyramid hair.

My hair is not as curly as Nancy’s or the TV girl, so I know there’s hope for me yet.

Walking in a Hurricane

June 24, 2008

I have lovely white crape-myrtles growing in my front yard. And right now they are in full bloom just like every summer. If you haven’t seen them before they are short bushy trees that are native to the south and the tiny white flowers grow in clusters. One of my favorite things about the flowers is that they get heavy when they are in full bloom and make the tree look like an umbrella of flowers. When you walk under them the individual flowers let go and land on your clothes and stick in your hair. I love it. It’s just such a simple and happy thing.

—————–

I think everyone likes to tease their parents (everyone with a good parental relationship anyway.) As the oldest child I get to give mine a hard time about the ways that they were strict on me and then let up on my younger siblings. But I have to say that my favorite story to tell on them is the time they made me walk home in a hurricane.

It was the summer after I finished eighth grade and I was taking summer PE so that I could take an extra elective my freshman year. I think that it was about three weeks and we would get up and go at 8 and have classroom lessons until lunch and then after lunch we would have physical activity till it was time to go home at about three. My parents never took me to school (never is strong but we are talking about maybe 5 times ever.) So in middle school I walked home from school most days less than a mile with my friends, my cousin, and sometimes my sister and brother. So I continued to do that during summer PE but since it was the summer there was not even a bus option.

So one day we had a hurricane watch. It wasn’t close enough that they canceled summer school before we had to show up but they let us go home shortly after we arrived. So I called home to get a ride… I mean a hurricane was coming. And they told me “just walk home.” Just walk home?! I was so mad. Mad enough to huff and cry as I walked home in the rain that was beginning to fall. So I walked, I cried, and I stewed as the wind started to pick up. “I can’t believe they are making me walk home in a hurricane.” And that’s the end of the story that I tell but it’s not really the end.

About half way home something kind of magical happened. The rain had made the temperature drop to a pleasant seventy instead of the usual nineties and hundreds of a typical Florida summer day. And it was still just drizzling. I walked by some white crapemyrtles that were blooming like they do in the summer. The wind was blowing the whole trees and tiny white flowers were being let go in huge swirling clouds. It was indescribably beautiful. I’ve never seen anything like it since; I had to be walking in a hurricane.