Branches Don’t Grow Straight

“The Good News of the Gospel is that he draws straight lines with crooked sticks. That he accepts us as we are, and he wants to use us to love other people, just as we are.” – C. S. Lewis

Corelle elle elle eh eh eh

This post is dedicated to
Claire
for her Birthday.
She has always hated Corelle,
and that has always made me smile.

I love youuu, Corelle.
Why? It’s chip resistant and light.

These ugly dandies survived through my entire college days (that’s four moves over five years and over 12 different housemates using them):

Unfortunately, “Chutney,” as this style is called, is what Corelle is best known for, and resembles a kitchen wallpaper border from the nineties.

However, I did find some very classy new styles they’ve produced lately. Apologies if the white on white is a bit hard to distinguish.

I think this one is my favourite.

I like the pattern, but I think I'd grow out of it rather quickly. Plus, I don't think I'm sold on square dishes.

In the end though, I think I’ll be going with the following. Why?

Functional and versatile, our Winter Frost White collection is a fundamental basic — perfect in its simplicity, and pure in its form.”

It’ll be easy to replace a broken plate. It won’t distract from or clash with the food. It will match anything I want to have around it. And finally, because it will never go out of style.

Conundrum

It’s not important,

but I honestly wonder,

and would consider myself stumped

regarding whether or not I should have

mugs of a variety of patterns, colours and sentimental meaning

or a monotone, matching array,

for when I keep a house

one day.

Flip-turned Upside Down

My world just got.

Nightmares

I have had the same nightmare in the last few nights, and it is really disturbing! I wish I could forget it once I wake up but I never do.

Warning: GROSS.

I had gotten stung on the finger by something at the park (this much had actually happened that day), and it swelled up like a pimple. Then I picked at it, and you know the white head of pimples? Well, it had that, and I scraped at it ended up pulling out this long, pus-coloured centipede type creature, like a ringworm. From my finger.

I KNOW. DISGUSTING. This is why I called it a nightmare.

Then last night I had a dream I was losing a tooth (already a nightmare, it was a lower incisor – I think I was grinding my teeth in my sleep), and it was bleeding, and I looked in a mirror and discovered that my tooth was swinging out of place, about to fall out because the tooth beside it had a little white hole near the gum, and I knew instantly that there was something that had been eating away at the root of my tooth! And I watched, and out came a lobster-antennaed pus-coloured centipede with spiny legs (the kind you see whizzing across the floor in basements), and another one, and then a whole bunch of little ones! I held very still, knowing that if they knew I was watching they’d instantly try to get back in the hole, so I waited until they were all out (like a dozen of them) then tried to get them out of my mouth by coughing and spitting and doing that thing where you scrape your tongue with your teeth to get stuff out of your mouth.

Anyway. Nasty. Ew. I hate nightmares.

My Discontent

I recently received an email update from a friend of mine who I literally haven’t heard from in 6 months. She’s doing some amazing work down in the states on a farm, working with women in crisis, and it sounds like God is moving powerfully through her and in her.

I found myself fighting off the slightest pangs of jealousy as I read, knowing that as wonderful and life-changing as it was, both for the women she was helping and for herself, I do not seem to be destined to participate in such an adventure myself.

I realized just how indicative my thoughts were of a heart-problem when I began writing out the reply, and found myself saying the following:

[...] News of your work sets a fire in my heart – I want to do such impassioned, life-changing work, too! Ah, you are truly being used by God, that is so exciting…

And on a reread, the red flags went up. Why am I not passionate about the work I do? Is it truly not life-changing? Aren’t I being used by God? Why don’t I feel like I am or why am I not excited about it?

I’m working for a ministry, and I’m fund raising, so whenever someone asks how I’m doing I’m either saying something positive or saying that things are the same since the last time they asked. But the one who is closest to me (here on earth) has mentioned that I don’t seem very grateful for being employed, for doing practically my dream job.

I do think I have a perpetually unrequited desire for perfection, which is why I’m always imagining the next great thing I’m going to do with my life, never quite completely content with my present situation.

I just hope I don’t miss out on what’s here right now.

Like, I dunno, happiness.

Jealous God

Oprah once said that when she was 28 years old she was sitting in church when the preacher said God was a jealous God. That didn’t jive well with her understanding of God, and she is quoted as saying that she didn’t like the idea that God would be jealous of her.

First off, the preacher wasn’t saying God is jealous of you, Oprah. God is jealous when the love of our lives isn’t him. He is our rightful lover, so to speak, and gets jealous when we direct our hearts elsewhere, namely at idols.

On second thought, maybe God is jealous of you, Oprah, because of how many people worship the ground you walk on and treat you as if you as the Lord of their lives.

Eughhhh. Oprah.

Why I Don’t Like the Olympics

Controversy: China is polluted, it’s communist, it’s fixing the Engrish, and it’s teaching people to be nice when the guests arrive, just to name a few of the stories I’ve heard so far, again and again.

The Olympic wear at the Bay.

The lionization of athletes.

Canada sucks. It’s predicted we’ll get 15 medals. USA is estimated to win 120.

do enjoy the inter-textuality. half of the fun is the article titles I’ve linked to.

Churchill

My Dad is watching a special that’s on PBS called Chasing Churchill: In Search of My Grandfather, as told by his granddaughter, who never knew him, but has a great voice for narrating the personal side of this historical giant.

I find the interviews very interesting not necessarily for their content, but for the emotions elderly people elicit from me when retelling the glories of old.

It makes me wonder what I’ll pass along to my grandchildren.

Will my generation go through a World War, or a Great Depression?

I feel as if Churchill had a mind to the role he played in history. He considered being Prime Minister his destiny. I wonder if part of why he made such great decisions, great both in the sense that they were noble and good as well as far-reaching in their impact, was because he understood his power to change the world for better or worse.

The man was Prime Minister, but I wonder if we don’t limit the good we do in our lives because of under-estimations of our own significance.

Churchill knew how to live life. He knew that great things could be accomplished with it, and as hard as he worked, he also knew how to play. The man drank his brandy, smoked his cuban cigars, and painted.

On a side note, Lawrence of Arabia was a real guy.

I thought it was just a movie.

*blink*

and you missed it.