This feels like deja vu. I literally just did a "What I learned in 2012" post, but, as we all know, that was a whole year late, so... I'll just do this, and maybe my "What I learned in 2014" post will seem normal, presuming I do it in 12 months instead of waiting till 2015 is over with.
Yikes. 2015 sounds frighteningly close. It's a good thing I know the Lord is coming soon! I won't have to worry about silly things like "What I learned" lists. Especially when my lists are as subjective and vague as mine typically are.
As always, this list is in no particular order.
1) Rice bags can catch on fire in the microwave. In other news, microwaves still function even with holes melted into the side of them. That is truly something I didn't used to know.
2) People can still surprise you. I'm not that old, but I have a habit of thinking that nothing is unexpected. Well, it's not true. Unexpected things can (and do) happen.
3) God is a lot more gracious than I am. I knew that, but I was reminded again this past year.
4) I'm kind of emotional. I used to mock my friends who teared up at the slightest provocation, but I'm not much better these days. I don't know if it's age or event related, but I cry a lot more often than I want to.
5) When I look around I realize that the Lord has a way of using substitution in my life. In a good way. For instance, there are things I think I want but instead of giving those to me, He gives to me things that feed the need perfectly for where I am in life. That probably doesn't make sense, so I'll elaborate. All I ever wanted to be from my youth up was to be a mom. I never had career aspirations or even life aspirations, truth be told, outside of marriage and family. And I still would love to be a mother, but at the current, that's not in the cards for me. But what I do have is a passel of Sunday School kids, and a job at a daycare. Almost every day of my life is filled with sticky smiles and heads of hair to braid. So it might seem like a silly something (and I'm not trying to say that what I do is mothering, because you mothers out there know that it's way more than just making sure kids aren't choking on plastic bags or whatever), but I have been so thankful this past year to realize that the Lord knows my heart and keeps my lap filled with children who want to listen to me read story books. It's a gift. And I'm thankful for it.
6) I should never be so dogmatic when I say that certain things won't happen. Turns out #2 on my list applies to all kinds of areas. Sometimes things that seem like they'll never happen do.
7) Life is made of moments, not milestones. I mean, some people get milestones, and I obviously have milestone-ish things in my life, but I've been learning not to look to milestones for contentment. Life passes me by when I'm constantly looking ahead for events over which I hold no control. Life is the every day, the mundane, the mealtimes and conversations and friendships and the shared memories. Life isn't always about moments that are scrapbook-able.
I could go on. But 2014 has already been overwhelming with with things and I'm afraid that if I finish this list (which I started a few weeks ago, but, as per usual, left in draft format for a while) it'll be subtly influenced by 2014. And then what would I put on my list next year? If the Lord doesn't come, that is.
Showing posts with label meals. Show all posts
Showing posts with label meals. Show all posts
Tuesday, January 28, 2014
Friday, March 23, 2012
Spring hath sprung!
For some people, spring means flowers and birds and other happy things. That sounds good. I mean, those are spring-like things. There's this bird that has it out for me and chirps outside of my bedroom window starting at 3:30 am (my family argues that it could be different birds, but I know better. It's one bird, and for some reason it hates me and wishes me great harm. It accomplishes this great harm by chirping SO LOUDLY that not even a pillow over my ear blocks out the sound entirely. True story), so trust me, I'm getting well acquainted with every aspect of spring, but to me spring is about other things.
For one, weather (which admittedly leads to things like flowers and such, but if it's still snowing, it doesn't matter if the 20th has come or not, it just doesn't feel like spring until the warmth arrives). I love when the crocuses decide it's warm enough and pop up. When I can finally sleep with the windows open again. When I feel like I'm getting a sunburn just by sitting on the back porch. In the spring we have supper outside nearly every evening, which is swell. Also, on Saturday we have breakfasts outside. And most lunches. Anyhow, yeah, many meals outside.
So, besides the weather and all of the holidays (Dr. Seuss's birthday, Pi Day, St. Patrick's birthday, the Ides of March, first day of spring, etc.) there's one other thing that signals spring. That is... Reuben Sandwiches. I love Reubens. Which is odd, because I think rye bread is gross. Ditto Swiss cheese. Also, most things on a Reuben. But I LOVE Reubens and was so excited when we had our first Reubens of the year. And when I say "first of the year," I mean that we have them about three times a spring. Mmm.
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Slightly burnt Reuben with a side of fresh tomato. DELISH.
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We had our Reubens on the first day of spring, actually, and I could pretend it was a happy spring celebration, but really, we just happened to eat them on Tuesday. Spring just happened to start on that day. After supper we were going to go to our local ice cream place, because they were giving away free ice cream in honor of the first day of spring, so after supper (and after my dad showed me how to charge up the car battery--it had died and my sister and I just sort of pushed it out of the way until my dad could come home to show me how to fix it next time) we piled in the car (the newly charged battery getting a chance to feel useful) and went down to the ice cream place, only to discover that about 100 people had thought of it before we did. So... we came home. And made our own crushed ice creations. Basically we crushed up ice and put on random flavors (lemon, vanilla, cherry, lime, any other flavors we could find) and ate it. We had some misses (the almond was gross) and some hits (lime. mmm), and in general had an amusing time standing about in the kitchen flavoring cups of ice.
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| Our array of flavors. Also, my family. |
We were going to have leftover pie from Pi Day celebration times at eating meeting on Lord's Day, but we forgot. Also, we were full of Reubens and... ice.
Oh, spring. How do I love thee. Thee minus that bird who hates me, but you know what I mean.
PS I see, thanks to the Google Doodle of the day, that today is Juan Gris's birthday. If you all recall, he was the one who made me realize that I was okay with Cubism after all. So happy birthday, Juan. Thank you for expanding my horizons.
PS I see, thanks to the Google Doodle of the day, that today is Juan Gris's birthday. If you all recall, he was the one who made me realize that I was okay with Cubism after all. So happy birthday, Juan. Thank you for expanding my horizons.
Monday, November 21, 2011
Already?
I love Thanksgiving. It's my favorite-ever holiday, but this year it seems to have come out of nowhere! I can't believe it's already that time of year! We were making the lists today of what dishes we were having and I just feel like I haven't savored it enough. But a roaring fire, some even-more-than-usually-long meals with the family, some wassail, and the smell of turkey (blegh) will doubtless cure of me of that.
Yes, remember? I'm the weirdo who likes neither turkey nor pumpkin pie. But being as Thanksgiving has an overabundance of food, it's not like I could possibly go hungry. : )
Today I'm thankful for my memory.
Yes, remember? I'm the weirdo who likes neither turkey nor pumpkin pie. But being as Thanksgiving has an overabundance of food, it's not like I could possibly go hungry. : )
Today I'm thankful for my memory.
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
Upside-up
When our family reads the Bible in the evenings, we have some rather odd traditions. Well, I guess only one truly odd one. Our Uno-like fashion of reading has mostly been relegated to breakfast readings, and in the evening we do nearly everything regular-type except for the fact that we read with our Bibles upside down. And when we have company we let them choose for themselves, but we still read upside down, as there's no reason to change just for the sake of company.
So Monday night we had a friend of the family over, and, come time for Bible reading, we explained that we read upside down and he was welcome to join us. So he did, no big deal, and read quite well. Afterwards, he told us that he was pretty sure that it was easier, due to his dyslexia (I agree! You see the word more clearly as a whole, and have less chance to mix up the interior letters). I had no idea he suffered from dyslexia, but he said that it was so bad he was pretty sure that he would have gotten into Heaven even without getting saved. : ) This may or may not be an exaggeration, but he and I had an amusing conversation about our dyslexic tendencies.
I've always claimed a little dyslexia. Try to get me to tell my left from my right and you'd be hard-pressed to get a quick answer. I mix up words and write backwards and when I look at the letter "s" I still don't know if it's forward or backward. But I'm pretty sure that reading was just so important in my house that I never got the chance to be dyslexic. Other kids would have been diagnosed and fretted over, but not us! When I was quite young (I learned to read by the age of five or something, so it had to have been before that) I remember saying that I was special because I couldn't read yet, and all of my older siblings could, therefore I was special. My logic has never been all that sharp.
So I'm thankful that reading was just something that we learned to do, somewhat akin to walking and holding a spoon correctly. I can read just fine (mostly...) and feel that I'm not handicapped in any way. And the knowledge I glean from reading is well worth the occasional mix-up of "scarred" and "scared."
Plus, if it ever gets confusing, I guess I could start reading everything upside down!
So Monday night we had a friend of the family over, and, come time for Bible reading, we explained that we read upside down and he was welcome to join us. So he did, no big deal, and read quite well. Afterwards, he told us that he was pretty sure that it was easier, due to his dyslexia (I agree! You see the word more clearly as a whole, and have less chance to mix up the interior letters). I had no idea he suffered from dyslexia, but he said that it was so bad he was pretty sure that he would have gotten into Heaven even without getting saved. : ) This may or may not be an exaggeration, but he and I had an amusing conversation about our dyslexic tendencies.
I've always claimed a little dyslexia. Try to get me to tell my left from my right and you'd be hard-pressed to get a quick answer. I mix up words and write backwards and when I look at the letter "s" I still don't know if it's forward or backward. But I'm pretty sure that reading was just so important in my house that I never got the chance to be dyslexic. Other kids would have been diagnosed and fretted over, but not us! When I was quite young (I learned to read by the age of five or something, so it had to have been before that) I remember saying that I was special because I couldn't read yet, and all of my older siblings could, therefore I was special. My logic has never been all that sharp.
So I'm thankful that reading was just something that we learned to do, somewhat akin to walking and holding a spoon correctly. I can read just fine (mostly...) and feel that I'm not handicapped in any way. And the knowledge I glean from reading is well worth the occasional mix-up of "scarred" and "scared."
Plus, if it ever gets confusing, I guess I could start reading everything upside down!
Monday, November 29, 2010
By the dozen
I won't bore you with my regular introduction of "we have the best family dinners ever," but last week we had a particularly funny episode that I'll recount in part.
So, we were were talking about the old-timey way of hanging people (throwing them up on stakes on a wall, just in case you were curious), and other random things like why my brother and I long misunderstood Ezekiel 4, and eventually we started talking about clocks. This is because we have a heinous clock that chirps, hoots, and makes other bird noises ever hour, on the hour. It's awful. I took the batteries out one time, but my mom actually likes the clock, so she found new batteries and now the clock is as loud as ever. This is fine, as we say, because what makes her happy makes us happy, but during supper we kept hearing it (it ended up being a long supper, so we heard the clock at least twice, and possibly even three times) and it was quite the topic of conversation.
That brought us to the thought that we should manufacture a clock with the twelve disciples on it! By the way, this may seem like a confusing train of thought to you, but we were talking about clocks, and we'd been talking about hanging people, and Judas was a disciple, and he hanged himself... well, somehow this made sense to us.
So anyhow, we had great discussion about how the clock would look. Would it have sounds for each disciple? Like Matthew, being a tax collector, would have clinky money sounds, and John would have some angelic sound, and Peter and the fishermen-type guys would have... fish sounds. Well, we decided that maybe the disciples wouldn't get sounds after all. But then there was the discussion of where we'd put the disciples. Who would get the 12:00 spot, right at the top of the clock? I voted Peter, but there was significant pull for John. Then we questioned if Judas should even get a slot. Maybe we could stick Matthias instead of Judas. My brother, of course, thought that perhaps we could have Judas at the 6:00 slot, and the clock could show the rope hanging him.
My mom wasn't impressed.
After a while we thought maybe we should just skip the disciples (too much drama!) and just do the twelve tribes. Of course, then there's the discussion about which tribe you should leave out (remember, Joseph got two tribes), and then we started all over again.
I Googled "twelve disciples wall clock" later, sure I'd find that somebody had already invented it, and to my surprise, didn't find anything. I looked only casually, but the closest I could find was a Last Supper clock and an old clock in Prague with the twelve on there, but it's an old clock, and not for sale. Also, there's a rock formation in Australia called The Twelve Apostles, and you can get clocks with the rock formation on the face, but that is, in fact, no help at all.
So one day if you wander into a Christian bookstore and see a twelve disciples clock, well, perhaps it was I, who somehow managed to finagle a deal to design clocks. It could happen!
So, we were were talking about the old-timey way of hanging people (throwing them up on stakes on a wall, just in case you were curious), and other random things like why my brother and I long misunderstood Ezekiel 4, and eventually we started talking about clocks. This is because we have a heinous clock that chirps, hoots, and makes other bird noises ever hour, on the hour. It's awful. I took the batteries out one time, but my mom actually likes the clock, so she found new batteries and now the clock is as loud as ever. This is fine, as we say, because what makes her happy makes us happy, but during supper we kept hearing it (it ended up being a long supper, so we heard the clock at least twice, and possibly even three times) and it was quite the topic of conversation.
That brought us to the thought that we should manufacture a clock with the twelve disciples on it! By the way, this may seem like a confusing train of thought to you, but we were talking about clocks, and we'd been talking about hanging people, and Judas was a disciple, and he hanged himself... well, somehow this made sense to us.
So anyhow, we had great discussion about how the clock would look. Would it have sounds for each disciple? Like Matthew, being a tax collector, would have clinky money sounds, and John would have some angelic sound, and Peter and the fishermen-type guys would have... fish sounds. Well, we decided that maybe the disciples wouldn't get sounds after all. But then there was the discussion of where we'd put the disciples. Who would get the 12:00 spot, right at the top of the clock? I voted Peter, but there was significant pull for John. Then we questioned if Judas should even get a slot. Maybe we could stick Matthias instead of Judas. My brother, of course, thought that perhaps we could have Judas at the 6:00 slot, and the clock could show the rope hanging him.
My mom wasn't impressed.
After a while we thought maybe we should just skip the disciples (too much drama!) and just do the twelve tribes. Of course, then there's the discussion about which tribe you should leave out (remember, Joseph got two tribes), and then we started all over again.
I Googled "twelve disciples wall clock" later, sure I'd find that somebody had already invented it, and to my surprise, didn't find anything. I looked only casually, but the closest I could find was a Last Supper clock and an old clock in Prague with the twelve on there, but it's an old clock, and not for sale. Also, there's a rock formation in Australia called The Twelve Apostles, and you can get clocks with the rock formation on the face, but that is, in fact, no help at all.
So one day if you wander into a Christian bookstore and see a twelve disciples clock, well, perhaps it was I, who somehow managed to finagle a deal to design clocks. It could happen!
Monday, November 22, 2010
Give thanks!
Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday, ever. As much as I love National Grammar Day and Guy Fawkes Day, Thanksgiving tops the list, every time. First of all, it's a cozy holiday, secondly, it usually involves much family, and thirdly, it reminds me how much for which I have to be thankful. Dear prepositions, I wish I could use you at the end of sentences. Things would sound ever so much better.
Anyhow, we all know I'm thankful for my family, and my friends, but there's so much else! I'm thankful for the hope of the Lord's coming. May that hope never grow dim in my heart, may I never stop jumping! I'm thankful for the colors of creation, and for snow, and for purple flowers. I'm thankful for road trips, and speed limits that are 65 and above. I'm thankful for music, and singing, and friends with iPods. I'm thankful for the ability to travel, and for travel-sized bottles of shampoo, and for my Kindle. I'm thankful for regular-type books, and words, and the power to imagine. I'm thankful for sunshine, and the Hey Cow game, and for the Game of Three. I'm thankful for new friendships, and old ones, and ones that I don't even know about yet. I'm thankful for my Sunday School class, and for sleep, and for sleepovers on the roof. I'm thankful for the possibility of GFD11, and for Friendly Vacation, and for family meal times. I'm thankful for prayer, and for family Bible readings, and for the fact that my parents pray for me every single night. I'm thankful for my mom, who waves me off to work in the morning, and for my dad, who lets me be as strange as I need to be, and for my brother, who is one of my best friends, and for my younger sister, now my sister in two ways. I'm thankful for my 11 nieces and nephews, and the three wonderful sisters and three wonderful brothers-in-law whom I never see enough but love anyway. I'm thankful for the years I had with my older brother, and the relationship we had. I'm thankful for laughter that makes my side hurt and tears stream down my face, and for sorrow so sharp I can do nothing but cling to my Saviour. I'm thankful for the human ability to love, and hope, and keep believing. I'm thankful that my sins are washed by the precious blood of Christ, and that through Him I am a treasure, a child of worth. I'm thankful for health, and happiness, and comfort.
There's more. But... it's not even Thanksgiving yet. I'll save something for later.
PS I LOVE this holiday!
Anyhow, we all know I'm thankful for my family, and my friends, but there's so much else! I'm thankful for the hope of the Lord's coming. May that hope never grow dim in my heart, may I never stop jumping! I'm thankful for the colors of creation, and for snow, and for purple flowers. I'm thankful for road trips, and speed limits that are 65 and above. I'm thankful for music, and singing, and friends with iPods. I'm thankful for the ability to travel, and for travel-sized bottles of shampoo, and for my Kindle. I'm thankful for regular-type books, and words, and the power to imagine. I'm thankful for sunshine, and the Hey Cow game, and for the Game of Three. I'm thankful for new friendships, and old ones, and ones that I don't even know about yet. I'm thankful for my Sunday School class, and for sleep, and for sleepovers on the roof. I'm thankful for the possibility of GFD11, and for Friendly Vacation, and for family meal times. I'm thankful for prayer, and for family Bible readings, and for the fact that my parents pray for me every single night. I'm thankful for my mom, who waves me off to work in the morning, and for my dad, who lets me be as strange as I need to be, and for my brother, who is one of my best friends, and for my younger sister, now my sister in two ways. I'm thankful for my 11 nieces and nephews, and the three wonderful sisters and three wonderful brothers-in-law whom I never see enough but love anyway. I'm thankful for the years I had with my older brother, and the relationship we had. I'm thankful for laughter that makes my side hurt and tears stream down my face, and for sorrow so sharp I can do nothing but cling to my Saviour. I'm thankful for the human ability to love, and hope, and keep believing. I'm thankful that my sins are washed by the precious blood of Christ, and that through Him I am a treasure, a child of worth. I'm thankful for health, and happiness, and comfort.
There's more. But... it's not even Thanksgiving yet. I'll save something for later.
PS I LOVE this holiday!
Friday, October 29, 2010
Obey
A few weeks ago my family was having a picnic and I had my parents give us kids some "life advice." I just figured that it would be interesting to hear specifics; we see how they live, but I wanted to hear why they decided to live the way they do. It sparked (obviously) some interesting discussions, and then I sort of forgot about it.
But last night our family went out to eat in celebration of two major events (moving here and my dad buying his business) that actually happened in September, but we always forget about it until later in the fall. So yes, it's October, and we're finally celebrating our Family Day of Awesomeness. Or whatever it's called.
So, while we were sitting around, waiting for the food (most specifically, the rolls, which they forgot to give us, and we were all pretty hungry for them, sigh) I thought it would be fun to get some advice from the other side of the family. My little sister (she'll always be my little sister, no matter how old she gets!) is nearly 16 (see? not exactly little any longer), so I asked her to give all of us some life advice. By the time I was her age I thought I had a pretty good handle on things (little did I know...) and thought it would be interesting to get her take on the subject.
She thought for a few minutes, and then came out with one of the wisest things I've heard in a long time. "Disobedience is never worth it." That was all. She just said it as if, well, of course, life advice was her speciality.
Yeah, I wasn't that smart when I was 15.
But it made me think of the verse in 1 Samuel 15, that says that "Hath the Lord as great delight in burnt offerings and sacrifices, as in obeying the voice of the Lord? Behold, to obey is better than sacrifice, and to hearken than the fat of rams." Then it continues about rebellion being as the sin of witchcraft and stubbornness as iniquity and idolatry (those verses used to strike a great deal of fear into my young heart, especially as I was wont to be rather stubborn), but I was mostly thinking about the obedience part of the verse.
You know, Saul really thought (so it appears) he was doing the right thing in the chapter--he sacrificed to the Lord from the best of the flocks and such. What's so bad about that? Well, nothing, unless the Lord had asked that you, you know, obey Him specifically. And this was the incident where Saul spared Agag, and later, of course, Haman the Agagite tried to destroy the Jewish race, which didn't work out so well for him, but this is off-topic. Go read Esther in case you need to brush up on how unfortunate the whole sparing-of-Agag situation was.
Where was I?
Ah, yes. So Saul did something that, in and of itself, wasn't bad, but certainly had negative consequences. And I can think of so many choices I've made in life (this is depressing: if I've already done so many wrong things and I'm not even a quarter of a century old, how much opportunity will there be in my life for wrongs to be committed? Ugh) where it wasn't as if I were doing something "wrong" per se, but I knew the difference. There are things that leave a sharp bitter taste in your mouth, and you know you don't have peace. Thankfully, I rarely end up losing my kingdom because of it (of course, I don't have a kingdom to lose. Note to self: find a kingdom) but there are still consequences.
So, maybe if I'd asked my sister a few years ago for life advice, I would have been less biscuit-y in some of my choices.
Maybe I need a shirt that says "Obedience is better." On the back it could say stuff about sacrifice or fat of rams, but I'm not sure that people would understand it. The "Obedience is Better" tagline makes sense in and of itself.
Like John H Sammis always said, "Trust and obey, for there's no other way, to be happy in Jesus, than to trust and obey!"
But last night our family went out to eat in celebration of two major events (moving here and my dad buying his business) that actually happened in September, but we always forget about it until later in the fall. So yes, it's October, and we're finally celebrating our Family Day of Awesomeness. Or whatever it's called.
So, while we were sitting around, waiting for the food (most specifically, the rolls, which they forgot to give us, and we were all pretty hungry for them, sigh) I thought it would be fun to get some advice from the other side of the family. My little sister (she'll always be my little sister, no matter how old she gets!) is nearly 16 (see? not exactly little any longer), so I asked her to give all of us some life advice. By the time I was her age I thought I had a pretty good handle on things (little did I know...) and thought it would be interesting to get her take on the subject.
She thought for a few minutes, and then came out with one of the wisest things I've heard in a long time. "Disobedience is never worth it." That was all. She just said it as if, well, of course, life advice was her speciality.
Yeah, I wasn't that smart when I was 15.
But it made me think of the verse in 1 Samuel 15, that says that "Hath the Lord as great delight in burnt offerings and sacrifices, as in obeying the voice of the Lord? Behold, to obey is better than sacrifice, and to hearken than the fat of rams." Then it continues about rebellion being as the sin of witchcraft and stubbornness as iniquity and idolatry (those verses used to strike a great deal of fear into my young heart, especially as I was wont to be rather stubborn), but I was mostly thinking about the obedience part of the verse.
You know, Saul really thought (so it appears) he was doing the right thing in the chapter--he sacrificed to the Lord from the best of the flocks and such. What's so bad about that? Well, nothing, unless the Lord had asked that you, you know, obey Him specifically. And this was the incident where Saul spared Agag, and later, of course, Haman the Agagite tried to destroy the Jewish race, which didn't work out so well for him, but this is off-topic. Go read Esther in case you need to brush up on how unfortunate the whole sparing-of-Agag situation was.
Where was I?
Ah, yes. So Saul did something that, in and of itself, wasn't bad, but certainly had negative consequences. And I can think of so many choices I've made in life (this is depressing: if I've already done so many wrong things and I'm not even a quarter of a century old, how much opportunity will there be in my life for wrongs to be committed? Ugh) where it wasn't as if I were doing something "wrong" per se, but I knew the difference. There are things that leave a sharp bitter taste in your mouth, and you know you don't have peace. Thankfully, I rarely end up losing my kingdom because of it (of course, I don't have a kingdom to lose. Note to self: find a kingdom) but there are still consequences.
So, maybe if I'd asked my sister a few years ago for life advice, I would have been less biscuit-y in some of my choices.
Maybe I need a shirt that says "Obedience is better." On the back it could say stuff about sacrifice or fat of rams, but I'm not sure that people would understand it. The "Obedience is Better" tagline makes sense in and of itself.
Like John H Sammis always said, "Trust and obey, for there's no other way, to be happy in Jesus, than to trust and obey!"
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Where the heart is
I recently had another birthday, and now, apparently, people think it's high time for me to fly the coop. When I say "people" I mostly mean my group of people at the Y where I always hang out. They find it surprising that A) I still want to live at home and B) that my parents still want me. But I honestly can't imagine just moving out for the sake of it. My family keeps me grounded, and in touch with reality, and I tell you what, I won't find meals or Bible readings as cool as we have it at home!
Last night I was joking around with my parents about them trying to marry me off (we have this whole arranged-marriage thing that nobody finds funny but us), and my mom was saying that they'll keep me for as long as they can. It made me rather cheerful.
And so this morning, as I was going around the breakfast table on my way out to work (I say good-bye to my bother, remind him of what time I'll pick him up from school, kiss my dad, my mom, and then my little sister, and then my mom follows me outside to wave me off. It's quite the process), I was just thankful for my family. They're the best.
Last night I was joking around with my parents about them trying to marry me off (we have this whole arranged-marriage thing that nobody finds funny but us), and my mom was saying that they'll keep me for as long as they can. It made me rather cheerful.
And so this morning, as I was going around the breakfast table on my way out to work (I say good-bye to my bother, remind him of what time I'll pick him up from school, kiss my dad, my mom, and then my little sister, and then my mom follows me outside to wave me off. It's quite the process), I was just thankful for my family. They're the best.
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Misspeaks
Last night 'round the dinner table we were remembering some particularly funny times when someone has been reading the Bible and spoke amiss. My all-time favorite was when my little sister was just learning how to read and we were reading the parable of the guy who sent his only son and she said, "This is the hair; come, let us kill him, and let us squeeze on his inheritance." And I just laughed. Nobody else remembers, but I wrote a note in my Bible, and every time I come across it I just have to laugh.
Then, of course, were the time when we'd have Bible study at our house for the neighbourhood teens, and every once in a while they'd say something funny. Like once my dad asked what "swine" were (parable of the prodigal son) and one girl said, "they're those, like, pretty white birds?" No, no, those are swans.
At Sunday School once a boy whom I've always thought of as pretty with it was asked what a "pardon" was. "A.... squirrel?" No, Lorenzo, that's not it.
Back to the dinner table. Once, when my grandma was still with us, she was at our house for breakfast and our family reading happened to be in Matthew 11. My grandma wasn't paying much attention (being 93 will do that to you), and so when it came time for her to read she didn't know where we were. So my mom, being ever helpful, started out the verse for her and pointed her in the right direction. "Woe unto thee, Mummy," she said, hoping that my grandma would pick up from there.
So my grandma repeated after her. Verbatim.
"Woe unto thee, Mummy."
We all cracked up, and my poor grandma didn't understand why we thought it was funny. Needless to say, I can't ever seem to read about Chorazin without remembering my dear grandmother saying, "Woe unto thee, Mummy."
I remember someone once mis-reading loaves and fishes as "loaves and smishes." Two words: Church. Giggles.
Then, of course, were the time when we'd have Bible study at our house for the neighbourhood teens, and every once in a while they'd say something funny. Like once my dad asked what "swine" were (parable of the prodigal son) and one girl said, "they're those, like, pretty white birds?" No, no, those are swans.
At Sunday School once a boy whom I've always thought of as pretty with it was asked what a "pardon" was. "A.... squirrel?" No, Lorenzo, that's not it.
Back to the dinner table. Once, when my grandma was still with us, she was at our house for breakfast and our family reading happened to be in Matthew 11. My grandma wasn't paying much attention (being 93 will do that to you), and so when it came time for her to read she didn't know where we were. So my mom, being ever helpful, started out the verse for her and pointed her in the right direction. "Woe unto thee, Mummy," she said, hoping that my grandma would pick up from there.
So my grandma repeated after her. Verbatim.
"Woe unto thee, Mummy."
We all cracked up, and my poor grandma didn't understand why we thought it was funny. Needless to say, I can't ever seem to read about Chorazin without remembering my dear grandmother saying, "Woe unto thee, Mummy."
I remember someone once mis-reading loaves and fishes as "loaves and smishes." Two words: Church. Giggles.
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Tuna with a side of Smartness
Change begins at the meal table. ~This week's sign at a Church near where I work. I wonder what the sermon's going to be about... I've been curious ever since I saw the sign on Monday.
Anyhow, I talk about our family meals all the time, how fun they are, and how wacky they sometimes end up being. I was pondering this last night as I realized the amount of information we were sharing was of a fairly impressive quantity.
My brother was trying to teach us all this math problem, wherein the answer was about four times the length of the original question. My mom was full of factoids about the 82-year-old woman who got an $1,103 speeding ticket and a postcard that took 64 years to reach its recipient. Of course, she couldn't just say the story, but rather she explained it in math problems--she knew how many miles away the postcard was trying to go (she GoogleMapped it) and figured out the rate at which the postcard traveled to take that long. It was like half a mile a year.
And I just sat there, with my meager knowledge that crocodiles like to soak humans underwater before eating them (if they choose to eat humans, which they usually don't, quite honestly), and that New Hampshire is the only state left without formal seat belt laws on the books. I thought those were some pretty good take-home bits for the day, but my family had me beat.
Another day, another dinner. Have I ever mentioned how thankful I am for my family?
Anyhow, I talk about our family meals all the time, how fun they are, and how wacky they sometimes end up being. I was pondering this last night as I realized the amount of information we were sharing was of a fairly impressive quantity.
My brother was trying to teach us all this math problem, wherein the answer was about four times the length of the original question. My mom was full of factoids about the 82-year-old woman who got an $1,103 speeding ticket and a postcard that took 64 years to reach its recipient. Of course, she couldn't just say the story, but rather she explained it in math problems--she knew how many miles away the postcard was trying to go (she GoogleMapped it) and figured out the rate at which the postcard traveled to take that long. It was like half a mile a year.
And I just sat there, with my meager knowledge that crocodiles like to soak humans underwater before eating them (if they choose to eat humans, which they usually don't, quite honestly), and that New Hampshire is the only state left without formal seat belt laws on the books. I thought those were some pretty good take-home bits for the day, but my family had me beat.
Another day, another dinner. Have I ever mentioned how thankful I am for my family?
Friday, July 23, 2010
Finding home
I rarely ever hear songs by The Afters, but I happened to hear one this week that struck me as kind of up my alley. I don't actually remember much of what the song sounded like, but I looked up the lyrics when I got home because I was pretty sure that the words intrigued me. Either that, or I'd heard them totally wrong. But no, I'd heard them right.
"The World's got me tied on a string/Wanderlust has overcome me/Like Lewis and Clark I'll dream/There's a million different ways to go/Only God can know where I will call my home."
I actually have no idea what the point of this song is. I sort of get the impression that perhaps they wanted a few filler songs for a CD and just decided this one was good enough. Not that I dislike it, but I literally have no idea what the point of it is. It's called "Love Lead Me On" and the entirety of the chorus goes as follows: "Love lead me on/Where no one else has gone/Faith keep me strong/Love lead me on."
It also rambles about finding home, and love, and picture perfect sunsets, so I'm pretty sure it's just a feel-good song about finding home, but I mostly liked the lines about wanderlust and Lewis and Clark. One of my friends and I used to play Lewis and Clark (I'm pretty sure I was Lewis) and we were masterful waterfall jumpers. It was pretty swell.
I have a friend who is going to school to be a guidance counselor, and he's already pretty good at it. We'll be having a conversation and suddenly I'll realize that I'm just rambling about all sorts of stuff I normally wouldn't. It's rather unsettling, actually. That being said, I was talking about traveling the other day, and he asked me, "Do you get antsy if you stay in one place for too long?"
I had no idea what to tell him. I don't even remember the last time I stayed in one place for a long time. At least one weekend a month I'm somewhere else--anywhere else! And it's not that I don't love my family, or my home (because I love both, very much), but I'm just always doing other things on the weekends. It was odd for me to take a step back and look at myself the way others must see me. I know there are some people who think I'm out and about too much, that I should be home more.
But... I am pretty tight with my family. We eat two meals a day together, we discuss anything and everything whenever we have spare minutes, we travel places together when we get the chance, I ask my parents for advice about most things (even crazy-sounding things, so they can talk me out of it), and my siblings and I are incredibly close.
So, does my traveling a lot mean I'm escaping from something? Because I can't think of what I'd be running from, or what I'd be trying to run toward. My home is just that: Home. I wouldn't want to think I'm out trying to find another place to belong. I'm just out to find that perfect sunset, to play Lewis and Clark and make discoveries worth discussing at the dinner table.
I like to think of it like T. S. Eliot always said: "We shall not cease from exploration, and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time."
"The World's got me tied on a string/Wanderlust has overcome me/Like Lewis and Clark I'll dream/There's a million different ways to go/Only God can know where I will call my home."
I actually have no idea what the point of this song is. I sort of get the impression that perhaps they wanted a few filler songs for a CD and just decided this one was good enough. Not that I dislike it, but I literally have no idea what the point of it is. It's called "Love Lead Me On" and the entirety of the chorus goes as follows: "Love lead me on/Where no one else has gone/Faith keep me strong/Love lead me on."
It also rambles about finding home, and love, and picture perfect sunsets, so I'm pretty sure it's just a feel-good song about finding home, but I mostly liked the lines about wanderlust and Lewis and Clark. One of my friends and I used to play Lewis and Clark (I'm pretty sure I was Lewis) and we were masterful waterfall jumpers. It was pretty swell.
I have a friend who is going to school to be a guidance counselor, and he's already pretty good at it. We'll be having a conversation and suddenly I'll realize that I'm just rambling about all sorts of stuff I normally wouldn't. It's rather unsettling, actually. That being said, I was talking about traveling the other day, and he asked me, "Do you get antsy if you stay in one place for too long?"
I had no idea what to tell him. I don't even remember the last time I stayed in one place for a long time. At least one weekend a month I'm somewhere else--anywhere else! And it's not that I don't love my family, or my home (because I love both, very much), but I'm just always doing other things on the weekends. It was odd for me to take a step back and look at myself the way others must see me. I know there are some people who think I'm out and about too much, that I should be home more.
But... I am pretty tight with my family. We eat two meals a day together, we discuss anything and everything whenever we have spare minutes, we travel places together when we get the chance, I ask my parents for advice about most things (even crazy-sounding things, so they can talk me out of it), and my siblings and I are incredibly close.
So, does my traveling a lot mean I'm escaping from something? Because I can't think of what I'd be running from, or what I'd be trying to run toward. My home is just that: Home. I wouldn't want to think I'm out trying to find another place to belong. I'm just out to find that perfect sunset, to play Lewis and Clark and make discoveries worth discussing at the dinner table.
I like to think of it like T. S. Eliot always said: "We shall not cease from exploration, and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time."
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Best left unsaid
Our family dinners tend to be sort of an open form for chaos. I don't mean that in a bad way, and in fact, our family dinners are pretty much the best ever. Sometimes, however, my brother and I get a little too chatty for my parents' tastes.
It's bad enough that we frequently reminisce about the days before we understood Ezekiel 4, question exactly what every colour of scab and hair in Leviticus 13 means, but Monday night at dinner we spent an inordinate amount of time discussing Judges 19.
For those who don't recall the story, it's the charming little tale of the time that the Levite and his concubine spent the night in Gibeah, and due to some terrible treatment from the men of that place, the concubine died. Ahem. Anyhow, the Levite realized that he should stand up for this wrong (or something), and decided to prove a point. So he took the dead concubine, cut her in twelve pieces, and sent her via messenger to the twelve tribes of Israel, hoping to incite righteous anger. Or something. That he did, and by the time all was said and done, thousands of Israelites had given their lives fighting for the cause. This, of course, inspired the whole Rock-of-Rimmon passage, which is a story for another time.
So the discussion my brother and I were so animatedly having was that matter of exactly how the woman would have been divided. For instance, if the arms/hands were divided into three pieces, then you wouldn't have need of the legs/feet to be divided into three pieces. Perhaps the larger the tribe was, the larger the piece was?
Anyhow, my parents didn't seem to have much appreciation for our highly spiritual discussion, and shot it down. But seriously, the quandary is remarkable!
It brings to mind the age-old discussion from Revelation 13 about the heads and horns/crowns. How can seven heads have ten horns/crowns? Which heads get the extra horns/crowns? Is it symmetrical, like the heads on either end and the one in the middle get those extra horns/crowns? It's just so confusing.
But, these are things that don't really make a difference in the long run. There are many, many other things in the Word of God I should be spending my time considering.
Like, you know, whether or not the lions in Solomon's temple were real or not. Always a good one.
It's bad enough that we frequently reminisce about the days before we understood Ezekiel 4, question exactly what every colour of scab and hair in Leviticus 13 means, but Monday night at dinner we spent an inordinate amount of time discussing Judges 19.
For those who don't recall the story, it's the charming little tale of the time that the Levite and his concubine spent the night in Gibeah, and due to some terrible treatment from the men of that place, the concubine died. Ahem. Anyhow, the Levite realized that he should stand up for this wrong (or something), and decided to prove a point. So he took the dead concubine, cut her in twelve pieces, and sent her via messenger to the twelve tribes of Israel, hoping to incite righteous anger. Or something. That he did, and by the time all was said and done, thousands of Israelites had given their lives fighting for the cause. This, of course, inspired the whole Rock-of-Rimmon passage, which is a story for another time.
So the discussion my brother and I were so animatedly having was that matter of exactly how the woman would have been divided. For instance, if the arms/hands were divided into three pieces, then you wouldn't have need of the legs/feet to be divided into three pieces. Perhaps the larger the tribe was, the larger the piece was?
Anyhow, my parents didn't seem to have much appreciation for our highly spiritual discussion, and shot it down. But seriously, the quandary is remarkable!
It brings to mind the age-old discussion from Revelation 13 about the heads and horns/crowns. How can seven heads have ten horns/crowns? Which heads get the extra horns/crowns? Is it symmetrical, like the heads on either end and the one in the middle get those extra horns/crowns? It's just so confusing.
But, these are things that don't really make a difference in the long run. There are many, many other things in the Word of God I should be spending my time considering.
Like, you know, whether or not the lions in Solomon's temple were real or not. Always a good one.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Safe
So, I'm not feeling very wordy today. I'm feeling, however, that I love knowing that I'm safe in Christ's care.
Wow. I just had the weirdest feeling ever. I all of a sudden remembered that when my Dad told us that my brother had passed away, he jumped out of the van where we were waiting for news, and (I think) he said to my mom, "He's safe." That's not weird, it made sense (remember when David from the Bible asked if the young man Absalom was safe? I think it was reminiscent of that), but what's weird is... I'm not sure.
Fine, fine, it was six years ago, but the details of that day seemed like things I'd never forget. Sitting on the porch swing for hours, trying to read my book (ironically, Calm My Anxious Heart by Linda Dillow), but being worried sick about what could have happened. Kneeling in the living room, praying with my family for the safety of the members of the family we were worried for. Trying to go through the motions of the day, playing games, making meals, exactly as if we were going to sit down that night like a normal family and have dinner together.
But all of a sudden, I don't quite remember if my dad said those words, "He's safe." I can ask someone and refresh my memory (and I will!) but it's been so far archived in my brain that it's not retrievable with 100% accuracy.
Sorry. Sad moment alert. Good thing I know I'm resting safe in the Father's hand, right?
Wow. I just had the weirdest feeling ever. I all of a sudden remembered that when my Dad told us that my brother had passed away, he jumped out of the van where we were waiting for news, and (I think) he said to my mom, "He's safe." That's not weird, it made sense (remember when David from the Bible asked if the young man Absalom was safe? I think it was reminiscent of that), but what's weird is... I'm not sure.
Fine, fine, it was six years ago, but the details of that day seemed like things I'd never forget. Sitting on the porch swing for hours, trying to read my book (ironically, Calm My Anxious Heart by Linda Dillow), but being worried sick about what could have happened. Kneeling in the living room, praying with my family for the safety of the members of the family we were worried for. Trying to go through the motions of the day, playing games, making meals, exactly as if we were going to sit down that night like a normal family and have dinner together.
But all of a sudden, I don't quite remember if my dad said those words, "He's safe." I can ask someone and refresh my memory (and I will!) but it's been so far archived in my brain that it's not retrievable with 100% accuracy.
Sorry. Sad moment alert. Good thing I know I'm resting safe in the Father's hand, right?
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Leftovers
Isn't is sad how poorly we treat leftovers? I don't know about you guys, but I tend to not appreciate leftovers as much as I should. For instance, I currently am trying desperately to finish up a fridge-full of leftovers before I depart for the West Coast for the holidays. When my family left they left me with all kinds of things--soup, rice, bread, vegetables, enough things to keep me happy for a long time.
Sad thing is, though, now I feel obliged to finish it up. Not in a stuff-myself-ugh kind of way, but in a if-I-have-one-of-these-meals-at-every-meal-from now-until-I-leave-I'll-finish-them-all-up kind of way. But I'm home alone! I always crave cereal for supper, for some reason, but since I've got white chili in the fridge, I don't want to have to freeze that and eat my cheerios instead. So instead of being thankful that I don't have to go to any effort to pull together a supper for myself in the evening, I sigh because I can't have an egg for breakfast, because of the excess of bananas in my house.
Isn't that sad? I'd be a bad third-world-dweller.
I gave up and froze the rice, by the way, and I think I'll follow suite with some of the chili. I've already finished all of the split pea soup (it was really yummy, actually) and if I freeze that white chili, it means.... cereal for supper! It's like a dream come true!
Sad thing is, though, now I feel obliged to finish it up. Not in a stuff-myself-ugh kind of way, but in a if-I-have-one-of-these-meals-at-every-meal-from now-until-I-leave-I'll-finish-them-all-up kind of way. But I'm home alone! I always crave cereal for supper, for some reason, but since I've got white chili in the fridge, I don't want to have to freeze that and eat my cheerios instead. So instead of being thankful that I don't have to go to any effort to pull together a supper for myself in the evening, I sigh because I can't have an egg for breakfast, because of the excess of bananas in my house.
Isn't that sad? I'd be a bad third-world-dweller.
I gave up and froze the rice, by the way, and I think I'll follow suite with some of the chili. I've already finished all of the split pea soup (it was really yummy, actually) and if I freeze that white chili, it means.... cereal for supper! It's like a dream come true!
Friday, December 18, 2009
Home alone
Well, I'm home alone. Well, I'm not home at this exact second, but in general I'm alone at my home. Unless this is a stalker reading this who somehow knows where I live, in which case I have a dog and a burly guard and alarms that will tie you into a ball of humanity.
Moving on.
You'd think I'd want to order pizza and laze around and eat junk food, right? That's what I'd think, but all I can think is that I have a ton of grapefruit in the fridge that I want to eat. I don't even usually like grapefruit, is the weird thing. But right now I just really want to eat it. Maybe it's the three cups of coffee talking, but citrus sounds amazing right now.
Everyone has told me that a fun thing to do is listen to really loud music when you're home alone. All good and well, but I don't like my music loud. I like music to be more like a background to the life I lead, not the leading... lady. Leading loudly? Eh, I have no idea.
I feel wholly uninspired right now. A friend of mine told me today that they actually read this sometimes (uh, hi co-worker slash best friend, if you're reading) and it made me realize how boring and pointless this whole blog is. I don't like when I post posts like this--pointless ones talking about my day or how I feel, but at the same time, the posts where I ramble on about nothing are lame as well. So... everything I write? pointless.
The end. I go. A-fishing. Just kidding, I've sworn off fishing expeditions. I hope.
No, seriously, I'm done now.
Moving on.
You'd think I'd want to order pizza and laze around and eat junk food, right? That's what I'd think, but all I can think is that I have a ton of grapefruit in the fridge that I want to eat. I don't even usually like grapefruit, is the weird thing. But right now I just really want to eat it. Maybe it's the three cups of coffee talking, but citrus sounds amazing right now.
Everyone has told me that a fun thing to do is listen to really loud music when you're home alone. All good and well, but I don't like my music loud. I like music to be more like a background to the life I lead, not the leading... lady. Leading loudly? Eh, I have no idea.
I feel wholly uninspired right now. A friend of mine told me today that they actually read this sometimes (uh, hi co-worker slash best friend, if you're reading) and it made me realize how boring and pointless this whole blog is. I don't like when I post posts like this--pointless ones talking about my day or how I feel, but at the same time, the posts where I ramble on about nothing are lame as well. So... everything I write? pointless.
The end. I go. A-fishing. Just kidding, I've sworn off fishing expeditions. I hope.
No, seriously, I'm done now.
Monday, October 26, 2009
Of apples and trees
We had supper the other night at my grandparent's house. The food was delicious, the fellowship was wonderful, and the conversation... familiar. Familiar, because it was the same conversation we have every time we go. The embarrassing thing? I haven't even memorized it yet.
I love it, don't get me wrong, I just appreciate the humor of the whole thing. What happens is we talk about this and that--what various family members are up to, who's studying up on what Biblical topic, what we feel about chiropractors or torture chambers--and then, all of a sudden, we're talking about Israel. And that's fine, truly it is, I love all things Israel. What makes it so familiar is that the conversation almost always goes the same way.
My grandpa talks about how Israel is being protected only by the hand of the Lord, and how nations are retarded to try to fight against Israel. My dad backs this up with recent news items about countries who want to attack Israel. They talk about American politics for a moment, then revert back to all the points in history wherein Israel was protected in miraculous ways. Anyone who's had a meal with these guys has no doubt heard at least some of the stories. 90 Minutes in Antibe being a fairly popular one. They also talk about the times when the Israeli soldiers would stand out in the open and always hit their guys, while the enemy always missed them. The time when Israeli planes came to a Russian airfield and managed to knock out all the actual fighterly planes, and somehow miss all the decoy planes is a good one, too.
It's always interesting, and about 20 minutes into this hour-long ordeal my grandma falls asleep and my brother and I start conversing among ourselves. But one day (if the rapture holds off for a while longer), no doubt, I'll find myself having a meal with my brother and his family, and he and I will start telling all of his bored children about all the miracles the Lord performed for Israel when they didn't even know it. And they'll roll their eyes and start talking about something else. That's OK, they'll no doubt get a chance to hear it again, if they choose not to listen that time. And again. And again.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Say what?
Sometimes I think I flunked out of Evolution one too many times. Last night at dinner, we were having a lively discussion of evolution (we have lively discussions regarding just about every subject, truth be told) and it turns out, I'm not smart enough to understand evolution after all. It all started when my brother brought up wolves, and how they're getting more dog-like as the years pass (darker fur, I guess), and little ol' me says something about evolution and breeding, and next thing I know, my dad's educating me about evolution, and how it "really" is just a series of complicated breeding patterns, after all.
I'd never really given it much thought, actually, about the process in and of itself. I usually get hung up at the very beginning of this totally nonsensical process, somewhere between the "big bang" and "protein soup" that we somehow all came out of.
But we weren't discussing that. My dad was trying to get through my thick skull the concept of advantages. As I currently understand it, evolution goes something like this: one generation gets the gene capable of creating a mutation, and a following generation gets the actual mutation, and if that sticks, then further generations get the actual change implemented within them.
But where I got hung up was the whole "if it sticks" part. I guess for the mutation to be passed along it has to have an advantage.
Here's where I asked such questions as "How does the body decide if it's an advantage or not? How does it know what to pass on?" And I'm pretty sure my parents decided right then and there that I must have flunked out of comprehensive thinking, as well.
Anyhow, I guess the advantage causes the newly mutated creature to live long enough to pass along their genes to the next generation. Oh. How was I supposed to know?
I guess that doesn't sound like a very big discovery, but it took about an hour and a half for me to understand all of that.
Well, most of our suppers take an hour and a half (eating, talking, and Bible reading all combined), but this one seemed extra long, due to the high level of confusion on my part. The only parts I understood for the first hour or so was our discussion of bacterial flagellum, thanks to some science-y video I saw that was somewhere along the lines of this.
When all was said and done, all I could do was thank the Lord that I know I am fearfully and wonderfully made. I was created by the Lord, and His handiwork is all over me. I'm not the product of some random mutation, I am a work of art.
Now, isn't that a whole lot better?
PS, I'm not saying that mutations don't happen in people (I mean, we've got all those hereditary diseases that the Lord sure didn't program into us), I'm just saying that we're not the product of cells mutating into frogs, and frogs into raccoons, and raccoons to monkeys, and monkeys into humans. I come from a long line (6,000 years or so) of humans. We started out this way, people, and we're messed up only because of sin. We're not upgrading as we go along. Seriously.
I'd never really given it much thought, actually, about the process in and of itself. I usually get hung up at the very beginning of this totally nonsensical process, somewhere between the "big bang" and "protein soup" that we somehow all came out of.
But we weren't discussing that. My dad was trying to get through my thick skull the concept of advantages. As I currently understand it, evolution goes something like this: one generation gets the gene capable of creating a mutation, and a following generation gets the actual mutation, and if that sticks, then further generations get the actual change implemented within them.
But where I got hung up was the whole "if it sticks" part. I guess for the mutation to be passed along it has to have an advantage.
Here's where I asked such questions as "How does the body decide if it's an advantage or not? How does it know what to pass on?" And I'm pretty sure my parents decided right then and there that I must have flunked out of comprehensive thinking, as well.
Anyhow, I guess the advantage causes the newly mutated creature to live long enough to pass along their genes to the next generation. Oh. How was I supposed to know?
I guess that doesn't sound like a very big discovery, but it took about an hour and a half for me to understand all of that.
Well, most of our suppers take an hour and a half (eating, talking, and Bible reading all combined), but this one seemed extra long, due to the high level of confusion on my part. The only parts I understood for the first hour or so was our discussion of bacterial flagellum, thanks to some science-y video I saw that was somewhere along the lines of this.
When all was said and done, all I could do was thank the Lord that I know I am fearfully and wonderfully made. I was created by the Lord, and His handiwork is all over me. I'm not the product of some random mutation, I am a work of art.
Now, isn't that a whole lot better?
PS, I'm not saying that mutations don't happen in people (I mean, we've got all those hereditary diseases that the Lord sure didn't program into us), I'm just saying that we're not the product of cells mutating into frogs, and frogs into raccoons, and raccoons to monkeys, and monkeys into humans. I come from a long line (6,000 years or so) of humans. We started out this way, people, and we're messed up only because of sin. We're not upgrading as we go along. Seriously.
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