It has been said that I am easily amused. Little things fascinate me. I like to know how things work. I like factory tours and behind-the-scenes stuff and those specials on Discovery Channel. I was definitely brought up this way: I remember my brother telling me about a conversation he'd recently had about "Jet Puffed Marshmallows." Topics covered were: What does "Jet-Puffed" mean? How big-a-jet are we talkin? What keeps the marshmallows from exploding when "jet puffed"? Several weeks ago, the girls and I caught an episode of the rarely aired Mister Rogers' Neighborhood. In that one episode, the inimitable Mr. R shed light on two very interesting processes when he visited a sleeping bag factory and a dollmaker's workshop. Have you ever thought about how a sleeping bag is assembled? Me neither, but now I know, and I am a better person for it. So here are a few jobs I would like to shadow for a day (or watch Mister Rogers shadow them), because ev...
Dear Mr. Morning Radio Host, How dare you, Mr. Morning Radio Host , while thinking out loud on air, suggest that we all turn around and give our tax refund checks to Compassion International? It's an economic stimulus package! Didn't you think of that? How will sending our money to poor people out of the country stimulate the US economy? Huh? That's just an un-American suggestion! You are proposing that we send our economy into further tumult, just to satisfy your whim of feeding orphans! If we don't use our money to consume more stuff, or go on little vacations or invest wisely, then, well, the package will be all for naught, and we will all be guilty of treason, or something. What are you trying to do? Save the world or something? Start a movement? You are a danger to this economy, sir. Sincerely, Amy Wright, who is thinking that there may be something to this, and will soon be investigating ways to encourage people to do it, provided the Senate approves the plan.
A few of us have been wrestling a little bit lately with what it means to live in the grace of God. What does it mean to live fully covered by the Gospel? To embrace the freedom Christ secured for us on the cross? For me, last night, it meant big hair and hard rock. See, over the summer, I'd started to get a little self-conscious about my holiness. I was part of a study at church that consisted of mainly older, wiser, more conservative and traditional women. While I still felt largely like a voice of dissent - a raging postmodern compared to this crowd - there was a certain feeling starting to set in. An old nemesis. I can't believe I didn't recognize it, as we' spent so much time together in the past. Guilt. Guilt that I wasn't the teetotaling, perfect homemaking, gentle-speaking mother that I was being mentored to be in this class. I used my powers of wit and sarcasm to mask and suppress it, but with each chapter and interaction the guilt seeped deeper...wit...
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Jesus will zap you...
Oh my!