Archive - April, 2009

Look ya’ll, I’m pseudo famous!

April 8, 2009 in almost famous,me being silly,my big fat head,other blogs with 8 Comments

Peter P. at Rediscovering the Church interviewed me on his blog! I’m pretty sure he’s talking to Francis Chan next week, or was it Charlie Chan? I forget…

Anyhoo, check it out here: Interview with Katdish
Will the accolades never end? (She types as the readers of Hey look a chicken collectively roll their eyes and slowly shake their heads.)

By the way Peter – you could have told me that you were posting this interview today! I might have tidied up around here a bit. Okay, probably not…never mind.

Official versus Unofficial: Mascots

April 8, 2009 in c3,church planting,mascots,pickboy,zeke with 12 Comments

Let it never be said that I cannot go more than 24 hours without being ridiculous and sarcastic. My last few posts have been of the reflective variety. Granted, I had to pilfer a blog post here and there from friends, but still…

And yes, I’ve used the comments section of other blogs to be silly, but what can I say? I am what I am. I’ll have you all know that I once went almost 3 days without a sarcastic remark. Granted, I was in labor, and I guess I blew it there towards the end when I may have threatened to stab my doctor with a scalpel if she didn’t wheel me into the OR and perform a C-section. But for me, that’s fairly impressive.

I’m still feeling a bit reflective, but I want to lighten things up a bit. In keeping with my theme of the week, I wanted to talk a little about official versus unofficial monikers for a church.

Official Mascot of Convergence Christian Church: Zeke

Zeke, in my opinion, is stand alone cool. But he’s not just a mascot. He represents the Church – one body with many parts. For a detailed look at what this cute little dude represents, you can check out my post, The Building of Christ? I don’t mean to brag, but we have some incredibly gifted, talented and creative peeps at C3. One in particular who has used her award winning graphic design and marketing skills to make a somewhat sad little stick figure (no offense, Jeff) on a piece of paper come to life. Now, when I say “come to life”, I mean that in a literal sense. This little dude will be animated! It’s going to be so flippin’ sweet! I won’t mention her by name, but feel free to post a comment, D.

Zeke has been in some fairly impressive company. He has traveled to Nigeria to visit my friend Mare. He has also had his picture taken with Jon Acuff, Pete Wilson, Anne Jackson, Carlos Whittaker, Brad Lomenick (that bald guy from Catalyst), and Steph at the Red Clay Diaries – just to name a few. Look for him soon on a Facebook Page near you.

Unofficial Mascot of Convergence Christian Church: Pickboy
 Pickboy was born during band rehearsal at our old church when a broken pic, a guitar string and a couple of wads of paper converged into our little blue faced friend. He’s not as cute as Zeke, and frankly he’s a bit jealous of all the attention being paid to that (his words, not mine) “PUNK STICK!”

But Pickboy is a special little guy because he represents the earliest beginnings of C3 at a time when we didn’t even know there would be a C3. A time when the earliest founding members sensed a connection with one another that went deeper than friendship; a glimpse of true fellowship. Don’t worry, Pickboy! We still love you!

NOTE: There is no truth to the rumor that the shadows you see in the foreground of the picture are those of Marge and Homer Simpson. I’m pretty sure that’s Jeff’s guitar case and head (from left to right, respectively.)

Well, I’ve rambled on long enough for today. My next post will either be about Official versus Unofficial Slogans! or I will rant incessantly about something in my trademark, completely objective manner. I’ve been watching the news on and off all week, so I’m leaning heavily towards the latter. Plus, I really liked my last incessant ranting post, especially the comments section. It was like I was giving everyone the gift of going second. And I’m generous like that.

Could I HAVE any more hyperlinks in one blog post?

The deep wisdom of Gene Simmons

April 7, 2009 in but I digress,c3,church,evangelism,Gene Simmons with 17 Comments


Before I go any further, I want to clarify something. Almost without exception, every quote I have ever heard or read attributed to Gene Simmons would fit into the category of “Things that make you go Eweh!” But this one is really good.

This past Sunday marked the last Sunday C3 would meet as a core group. On Easter Sunday, we officially open our doors to the public — our “launch” Sunday. We considered an advertising campaign, but decided against it for now. Jeff shared a little about his experiences with the last church plant he was involved in. They had over 200 in attendance at their launch. Which is awesome. Unless, of course your lead guy was expecting 700 or more. At this point, I am tempted to point out the total ineffectiveness of sending out 75,000 mailers on four different occasions with a net return of one visitor, but I digress…

The following Sunday was an even bigger pill to swallow, as they had less than 100. How do you get excited about a measly 90 people when you are expecting 700 or more? The answer came from the drummer, Jason. (Who, I am happy to say, is now the drummer and core group member of C3.) Jason came to Christ as an adult, after living what many would consider a very prodigal son sort of life; and he is a testimony to God’s redemptive power through the life of a humble servant. (Sorry – brief explanation tangent.)

As the leadership team gathered before the service in a “group prayer huddle”, the funk of sadness and disappointment was visible in the hunched shoulders and downcast faces of those in the circle. The unspoken question on everyone’s lips seemed to be, “What now?”

Jason begins, “I’ve been reading the autobiographical story of KISS…” At this point, Jeff (who is the worship pastor and Jason’s best friend) is thinking, “Oooh–Kaaay, where’s he going with this?” Jason continues, “When asked what type of audience KISS was hoping to attract at a concert, Gene Simmons said:

‘We’re not here for the people that aren’t here, we’re here for the people who are’.

This Easter Sunday, and every gathering thereafter, when we meet together to worship God, pray and fellowship with one another, can we simply remember that thought?

Thank you so much for your prayers and encouragement. I can’t express how much our little ragamuffin body of believers appreciate you all. You da bomb.

The Bucket (of rocks) List

April 6, 2009 in burdens,c3,forgiveness with 11 Comments

Easter Sunday will mark the first time C3 opens to the public; our “launch” if you will. I’m feeling a bit reflective at the moment, and I feel the need to warn you that this week may not be filled with my usual ridiculousness. This may change, but for now, I’m just not feeling it.

The following post was written by my friend and pastor, Jeff Hogan. He shared this story with us yesterday morning. I could simply hyperlink his blog here, and I would highly recommend that you visit his Convergence blog and check out all of his posts. Reading his blog is like reading a series of very good short stories. If you’re a musician, or simply appreciate musical goodness, check out his “Extra Stuff” on his sidebar. You’ll dig it the most. Now, on to Jeff’s story:

The sun was shining, and I was surprised at how warm I was getting. It was not particularly hot, but my load was heavy and awkward. About halfway up the hill, we paused for a moment on the gravel road and I turned to take in the view behind me. Looking out past miles of pasture and grassland, my eyes met the horizon and fixed on the mountains that stretched out as far as I could see in either direction. Turning back to our burdens, we started again up the hill.

When we had gone as far as the road could take us, we negotiated a small culvert and continued on across country. The buckets made it difficult to traverse the steep incline of the hill, but by now the destination was only a few minutes away. As we neared the top of the bluff, I thought about the objects I was transporting.

I had only chosen a few rocks, but they were significant. Most of them were pretty close in size and weight, but had specific physical characteristics. For example, one was really rough and abrasive- like sandpaper. Another was quite attractive on one side, and black on the other. Every new rock caused me to consider the instructions that were given concerning their selection: “Each should represent a deep hurt someone has inflicted on you; a wound that you continue to carry.”

Every new rock made the lesson sink in more deeply.

My final selection was unique. It was a wound that I had carried around for a very long time. No, it was actually several wounds that were all joined together with the common thread of one relationship. I knew it as soon as I saw it. Large, angular and sharp, this rock was as awkward and unattractive as the hurt that it represented.

“That thing doesn’t even fit right in your bucket,” Tamara said. “Are you sure you want to carry it all the way up the hill?” She was right. This one rock was as heavy as all the others combined. And since the diameter of my 5 gallon bucket wouldn’t accept all of the lopsided mass, adding it made the whole load awkward and top-heavy. But that was precisely the point. I didn’t want to carry its weight, but I already was. It was perfect.

We arrived at the top of the bluff, set our buckets down, and peered over the edge of the cliff. The path we followed on our ascent had circled around so that we could see the mountains again. We could also see where we had begun. Ironically, although we now stood 40-50 feet above it, we really weren’t too far away from our starting point. Had we not been carrying the stones, we could easily have made the same journey in less than half the time.

“Then Peter came to Jesus and asked, “Lord, how many times shall I forgive my brother when he sins against me? Up to seven times?” Jesus answered, “I tell you, not seven times, but seventy-seven times. (Matthew 18:21-22 NIV).”

“Therefore I tell you, whatever you ask for in prayer, believe that you have received it, and it will be yours. And when you stand praying, if you hold anything against anyone, forgive him, so that your Father in heaven may forgive you your sins (Mark 11:24-26 NIV).”

“Forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors (Matthew 6:12 NIV).”

We just stood silently for a few minutes, looking at the mountains and enjoying the cool October breeze. Then one by one, we took turns throwing our rocks off the cliff. With each toss, we expressed to God that we had forgiven the one who hurt us so deeply, and surrendered the burden of the wound to Him. When I got to my last rock- the big one- I stopped and prayed, “Lord, I’ve carried this burden around for so long that it feels like a part me. But I don’t want it, and I never did. I am surrendering everything about the situation to You, including the person.
After hurling it over the side, I watched as my rock landed on an even larger one at the bottom of the cliff and was broken.

When we can’t forgive, we load ourselves down with burdens that can be much heavier than a bucket full of big rocks. If you’re carrying a weight like this around, take it to the cross and let it go. Life is better with an empty bucket.

Forgive.

In Him We Live,

Jeff

Near the end of the service, Jeff asked all of us to fill in a blank at the bottom of our sermon notes, tear it off, wad it up and throw it in the trash.

It simply said: “Father God, I have struggled to forgive

_________________________________

But with your help, I am now surrendering them to you in forgiveness.”

Here’s the thing. I’m not one to hold a grudge. I’m actually a pretty forgiving person. No doubt due to knowing first hand how destructive grudges can be. So I thought this would be a difficult exercise for me to complete. Then the answer came to me during the closing prayer. If I’m being honest, I have since thrown the paper away, but still feel like I need a giant stack of these papers to repeat the process on a daily basis. But maybe that’s okay, too:

Forgiving others, while sometimes difficult, pales in comparison when faced with the daunting task of forgiving myself. But shame is not humility, it is pride. (In my case, anyway.) Satan delights in pride — especially when the children of God dress it up as something holy and righteous. Do you have a stack of papers weighing you down? May I suggest that you wad them up and lay them at the foot of the cross? Forgive.

My blog buddy Jason’s church is also relaunching this Easter Sunday in Alaska. Would you please pray for God to do amazing things through that body of believers? Jason is a righteously super cool pastor dude with a humble heart for God. (But don’t tell him I said that.)

If you are in the Houston area, are looking for a church home, and would like to come “dig our groovy mojo” (sorry – inside joke) please contact Jeff at jeffh@loveliveserve.org. You can also send me an email at katdishrich@gmail.com. We’re freaks, but we’re friendly, people and Jesus loving freaks — promise!

Random Acts of Kindness

April 5, 2009 in random acts of kindness with 12 Comments

Okay, sorry folks! More leftovers! This post is from last summer. I wanted to use it as an illustration of Matthew 6:

1″Be careful not to do your ‘acts of righteousness’ before men, to be seen by them. If you do, you will have no reward from your Father in heaven.
2″So when you give to the needy, do not announce it with trumpets, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and on the streets, to be honored by men. I tell you the truth, they have received their reward in full. 3But when you give to the needy, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, 4so that your giving may be in secret. Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you.

Pay it forward (or is it Pay it Backwards?)

For me, there has been a significant mind/heart shift since I’ve been writing this blog and commenting on other blogs. I find myself constantly re-evaluating how I act and react in day to day situations. It’s as if once I’ve typed something and sent it hurtling into cyberspace, it’s there for eternity to remind me when I fail to live up to the views I’ve expounded upon. I may not be able to remember where they all are, but they are no doubt out there somewhere. Such is the case with a comment I made on JML’s blog, Very Much Later. JML (Jake) writes a blog that I’m happy to say, I stumbled upon shortly after I started blogging myself. I love the honesty in his writing. He doesn’t sugar coat his perspective on being a Christian, and he’s able write about his personal walk without talking in “Christianese”. Also, he’s got some pretty amusing vomit stories.

This particular post was about witnessing to people. Specifically, what I refer to as the “cold call” witness. My comment pertained to how I’ve never actually been comfortable approaching total strangers and witnessing to them. Instead, I prefer to get to know a person and let them get to know me. If they seem drawn to this intangible thing that’s different about me, that’s when I’ll share my story with them. This is just what feels right to me — I’m not judging how others share the gospel of Christ. There is one way I’m comfortable witnessing to strangers. I try to find opportunities to practice random acts of kindness. (It’s an old bumper sticker, but I still like it.)
A couple of mornings ago, I had a piece of mail that I wanted mailed that day. Since our mail person doesn’t typically come until late afternoon, I dropped it in a public mailbox at the nearest shopping center. My son wanted to come with me and get some breakfast at Jack in the Box. As I was waiting in the drive-thru line, I thought, “I should pay for the person behind me.” This was appealing to me on many levels: 1) I would be practicing a random act of kindness, 2) I would be teaching my son a valuable lesson about our motives to do good, and 3) it was a fairly easy way to accomplish 1 and 2.
Except that is wasn’t easy. My first clue should have been the fact that I had to repeat my order 3 times. The cashier’s English was not great. When I pulled up to the window, she gave me my total. I said, “Okay. But I also want to pay for the person behind me.” She smiled and said, “Yes, yes okay.” Then proceeded to read my order back to me. At this point, there are several cars behind me, and the intended recipient of my random act of kindness was looking impatient. He also looked like he could be a body double for Paul Sr. on “American Chopper”. After two attempts to communicate what I was trying to do, she finally got her manager. I still had to repeat it twice. Not because her English was bad, but because apparently, paying for a total stranger’s meal is not a common occurrence at this particular eating establishment.

I was finally able to accomplish my original goal. But within that time span of approximately 3 or 4 minutes, several times I wanted to just blow it off and try again another time. But Jesus never said that following Him would be easy. And if everything was easy to attain, then nothing would be worth having. As I was pulling away, I made a conscience effort NOT to look at the truck behind me. But I couldn’t help it. I glanced at him just as he was turning his head towards me. I’m not a great lip reader, but I’m pretty sure his way of saying thank you translated into “What the F***!?!” And that was good enough for me…(smile)

I got some really great comments on that particular post, but the one that really stuck was this one:

What a great story! The last line was the best because that’s probably exactly what I would have said!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!Okay, here’s something to make you think, and I in no way mean to take away from the random act of kindness. There have been times in the past when I’ve done something along those lines and then did what you did. I told people about it because I felt so happy. But should we do that, or just keep it between us and God? Shouldn’t it be enough that it makes us feel good, without having to tell our friends and family what we did so THEY would think what we did was good? Did this make ANY sense at all????????????? But wait, I’m talking to the woman who named her blog Look! A chicken! ROFLJustin 😮 )
She’s exactly right. I would love to hear about some random acts of kindness that either you have done, witnessed, or been the recipient of; and I would like you to post them anonymously. Feel free to comment as yourselves otherwise. I am hoping that this will be a way to encourage each other to show the love of Christ in very tangible ways (big and small), spur one another on in good deeds, and give God all the glory in the process.

If anyone else would like to do the same on their blogs, I think that would be great!

Anonymously Yours,

April 4, 2009 in anonymous,random acts of kindness with 11 Comments

If you know me through this blog or other blogs I frequent, you probably already know how I feel about anonymous comments. I’m not a fan.

Actually, I should clarify my previous statement. I don’t have a problem with Anonymous if that person is sharing something very personal or if they just don’t happen to have an account from which to comment from. Really – no biggie. What I do take issue with are snarky, rude anonymous comments. Based upon some of the things I write about on this blog, I’m actually quite surprised that I have only ever had one truly snarky anonymous comment. But I did get one when I wrote a guest post on Stuff Christians Like about church planting.:

Anonymous said:
Don’t constantly check your email and/or your blog: IMRELEVANTFAUXSHO.COM if you’re sitting next to me at the conference like you did last year. And no, I don’t want to see all the cool new apps on your i-touch. Go bother your lead pastor and leave me alone. I’m trying to hear Dr. Keller!

Fail. If you’re 43 and don’t understand the relevance of new media that’s your problem, but don’t hate on people who are utilizing it to reach people who are otherwise immune to your traditional means of outreach. Furthermore if someone on their “iTouch” (it is actually iPod Touch and not iTouch) bothers you then maybe you should consider taking the time to develop multi-tasking skills, so that people who already have them won’t distract you.

To which I courteously replied:

Ah, yes…the bold yet mysterious “Anonymous”.

For the record, I don’t have a problem with people “multi-tasking” at a conference. Many were taking notes and/or updating their blogs live from the conference. I get that. I will most likely do the same this year. What I do have a problem with is some punk sitting next to me who thinks he knows all he ever needs to know about planting a church and chooses to text message snarky remarks about the worship team and the speakers to his equally snarky friend sitting 2 seats over. (Yeah, I looked. I’m nosy like that.)

And I know what they’re called — I have one.

Now if you’ll excuse me, the lace collar on my full length, wool dress is beginning to chafe.

To which Anonymous replied:

That was such an incredible response that I renege my entire comment. I completely understand what you’re saying now. I apologize.

Love, Anonymous

Clearly, I don’t care for Mr. or Ms. Snarky Anonymous. Had that person left a comment under their profile, I would have contacted them personally, would have most likely been quite a bit nicer, and would not have publicly b**ch slapped them on SCL. But if you don’t have the guts to leave your name when you’re being nasty, don’t expect me to bend over backward to be kind and understanding. (That goes quadruple if you do that to one of my friends.)

So why am I bringing any of this up? Because on tomorrow’s post, and every other Sunday post for the foreseeable future, I am going to ask you to comment anonymously. Wha-huh?

Okay, here’s a hint:

Matthew 6: 1-4

It’s Unanimous! Judges Declare a Winner…

April 4, 2009 in skanktacular,std fairies with 6 Comments


“Welcome home, STD fairies!”
Congratulations, Jake! Please email me your mailing address and these little winged skanks will be on their way to their new home!

The contest has one more set of divas. I will introduce them after Easter Sunday.

Leftovers Again? (Are We Inherently Prejudiced?)

April 3, 2009 in A Time to Kill,prejudice with 9 Comments

The following was orginally posted on July 19, 2008. Since I had a following of approximately 9 readers back then (on a good day), I figured I would republish it and get some new feedback. Helen wrote a response post about it, and I would appreciate it very much if she would post a link to it in the comments section. Anyway, happy pondering!:

The following is the closing argument from the movie “A Time to Kill”. If you’ve seen the movie or read the book, you know how it ends. If you haven’t, please take a few minutes to view this scene.

Based upon personal experience, I would answer the question, “Are we inherently prejudiced?” in the affirmative. I consider myself very open and accepting of other nationalities, races and even people of faiths outside my own. I think I can honestly say that if one of my children fell in love with, and chose to marry someone of a different race or nationality, it truly would not bother me. However, born of a caucasian father and a Japanese mother, I believe my experiences and my viseral reactions are colored by my heritage.

We’ve all seen commercials asking us to help feed, clothe, save the children of the world. Based on your own heritage, is your reaction the same regardless of whether the children are filmed in Africa? South America? Asia? North America? If I’m being honest, my emotions are triggered more by seeing the starving Asian child than the other children in the same circumstances. It’s not intentional, I’m not unaffected by the other children. But something is stirred in me on a deeper level because I sense a connection.
What about the news story about the child that was abducted, missing and/or murdered?

Does your heart ache equally for this child:
As it does for this one?:
This is not intended to be a “Guilt” post. I’m honestly curious if you have similar experiences.
If man is made in God’s image, then what exactly does that mean? If Jesus were to return to earth tomorrow, would it matter what He looked like? I’m certainly not a biblical scholar, but I’d be willing to bet a dollar that the historical Jesus didn’t have blue eyes and sandy blond hair. I imagine he looked very much like someone you would think twice about sitting next to on an airplane.
I guess my point is, if we’re to love one another as we are commanded to do, perhaps we need to take the time to learn from each other’s cultural experiences. I will never truly know what it’s like to be discriminated against because I am black or latino, but I do understand what it feels like to be treated differently because of the color of my skin and the subtle differences in my facial features. Does this make me more sensitive and empathetic to the injustices inflicted on others around the world? I certainly hope so….

Songs about Home

April 2, 2009 in C. S. Lewis,going home with 13 Comments

Have you ever noticed how many songs there are about home?:

Homeward Bound (Simon & Garfunkel)
I wish I was, Homeward bound,
Home where my thought’s escaping,
Home where my music’s playing,
Home where my love lies waiting
Silently for me.

Take Me Home, Country Roads
I hear her voice in the morning hour she calls me
The radio reminds me of my home far away
And driving down the road I get a feeling
That I should have been home yesterday, yesterday

Can’t Find my Way Home (Steve Windwood)
You are the reason I’ve been waiting so long
Somebody holds the key
Well, I’m near the end and I just aint got the time
And I’m wasted and I cant find my way home

Green, Green Grass of Home (Tom Jones)
It’s good to touch the green, green grass of home.
Yes, they’ll all come to meet me,
arms reaching, smiling sweetly.
It’s good to touch the green, green grass of home.

Home (Chris Daughtry)
I’m going home,
Back to the place where I belong,
And where your love has always been enough for me.
I’m not running from.
No, I think you got me all wrong.
I don’t regret this life I chose for me.
But these places and these faces are getting old.
So I’m going home.I’m going home

I know there’s many, many more songs about home. But, really — what is this mysteriously place we call home? I don’t really buy that old expression “Home is where the heart is” unless the Holy Spirit has taken up residence within that heart. And even then, there is a longing for this seemingly unattainable peace, this distant memory just beyond my reach where I am safe from harm.

I mentioned in yesterday’s post that I am originally from Virginia. My family also lived in Charlotte, NC. Of the three places I have called my home, I spent the least amount of time there. So, why do I long for that home? What is it about that place? I think I’ve finally figured it out. It has nothing to do with the place. It has to do with the circumstances. This is where I lived with my intact, traditional family shortly before everything went to sh*t. A house where I felt safe and protected — and even that was an illusion that would soon come crashing down. I used to sneak into my big sister’s room and listen to this song on her record player, which is my very favorite “Home” song:

“Sometimes I wonder if I’m ever gonna make it home again. It’s so far and out of sight. I won’t be happy until I see you alone again. Till I’m home again and feeling right. I want to be home again and feeling right.”

I want my children to grow up in a place where they feel protected, cherished and loved –knowing full well that a home here on earth is an illusion. God created us with a longing for our eternal home. Whether or not a person buys into that explanation doesn’t change the reality that within each of us that longing resides. In “The Weight of Glory”, C. S. Lewis writes:

In speaking of this desire for our own far off country, which we find in ourselves even now, I feel a certain shyness. I am almost committing an indecency. I am trying to rip open the inconsolable secret in each one of you—the secret which hurts so much that you take your revenge on it by calling it names like Nostalgia and Romanticism and Adolescence; the secret also which pierces with such sweetness that when, in very intimate conversation, the mention of it becomes imminent, we grow awkward and affect to laugh at ourselves; the secret we cannot hide and cannot tell, though we desire to do both. We cannot tell it because it is a desire for something that has never actually appeared in our experience. We cannot hide it because our experience is constantly suggesting it, and we betray ourselves like lovers at the mention of a name.

Our commonest expedient is to call it beauty and behave as if that had settled the matter. Wordsworth’s expedient was to identify it with certain moments in his own past. But all this is a cheat. If Wordsworth had gone back to those moments in the past, he would not have found the thing itself, but only the reminder of it; what he remembered would turn out to be itself a remembering. The books or the music in which we thought the beauty was located will betray us if we trust to them; it was not in them, it only came through them, and what came through them was longing.
These things—the beauty, the memory of our own past—are good images of what we really desire; but if they are mistaken for the thing itself they turn into dumb idols, breaking the hearts of their worshippers. For they are not the thing itself; they are only the scent of a flower we have not found, the echo of a tune we have not heard, news from a country we have never yet visited.

Do you think I am trying to weave a spell? Perhaps I am; but remember your fairy tales. Spells are used for breaking enchantments as well as for inducing them. And you and I have need of the strongest spell that can be found to wake us from the evil enchantment of worldliness which has been laid upon us for nearly a hundred years. Almost our whole education has been directed to silencing this shy, persistent, inner voice; almost all our modem philosophies have been devised to convince us that the good of man is to be found on this earth. And yet it is a remarkable thing that such philosophies of Progress or Creative Evolution themselves bear reluctant witness to the truth that our real goal is elsewhere. When they want to convince you that earth is your home, notice how they set about it. They begin by trying to persuade you that earth can be made into heaven, thus giving a sop to your sense of exile in earth as it is. Next, they tell you that this fortunate event is still a good way off in the future, thus giving a sop to your knowledge that the fatherland is not here and now.

Finally, lest your longing for the transtemporal should awake and spoil the whole affair, they use any rhetoric that comes to hand to keep out of your mind the recollection that even if all the happiness they promised could come to man on earth, yet still each generation would lose it by death, including the last generation of all, and the whole story would be nothing, not even a story, for ever and ever.

This is not our home. As my Aunt Phyliss might say, “Sugar, our home is Way Over Yonder

For the record, I’m the younger sister, not the one holding the cat. That cat hated me. This might have something to do with the fact that I dressed him in Baby Tender Love dresses and forced him into my toy baby stroller. I suppose I’ll never know for sure…

Forks, spoons, license plates and beavers

April 1, 2009 in beavers,canada,license plates,me being silly,virginia with 17 Comments

Happy April Fool’s Day! Today is sort of a mixed bag of nuts, but I suppose that’s not anything particularly new here.

I will begin some pictures I took a few years ago of license plates on vehicles owned by two of my uncles in Virginia. Quirky runs in the family:



I think this started quite by accident MANY years ago when my Uncle Franklin randomly received a plate that was all numbers. Now, both he and my Uncle Stewart get these license plates for themselves and other family members. I’m pretty sure they don’t pay extra; it’s all about “Who ya know.” Texas is my home, but being surrounded by laughing, fun loving Virginia kin folk in my very formative years helped shape who I am. I’ve got a big, goofy smile on my face just thinking about them.
My Uncle Stewart lives in Mechanicsville. I spent many fun days and nights with my dad, mom, sisters, brother, aunts, uncles and cousins at that house. Most notably, I remember catching fireflies in a jar at night. I’ll will likely write about how places you remember from childhood seem somehow smaller and less significant when we return as adults, but Uncle Stewart’s house is exactly as I remember it. This is due in part to the fact that it is EXACTLY THE SAME AS I REMEMBER IT.

It has been in a time warp for the past 35 years, which just brought joy to my heart when I went back there after all this time. I wish I had taken a picture of the wall shelf that had the same astrological sign coffee mugs on them as when I visited as a child (circa 1970-1975). He gave me a whole new appreciation for the term “waste not, want not”. I did manage to snap a picture of what was on the opposite wall, unchanged after 35 years:

I ask you, who needs a new fangeled cordless phone when you have a cord that can reach around the house?

And speaking of Canada…

In honor of my friend Tamara, who was born in the Great White North and because she emailed me the link in the first place (or maybe it was Jeff) — I forget. I was distracted because I was talking to Jeff on the phone about googling pornographic cheese butlers when Tam interrupted to ask, “has Kathy seen the beaver video?” Anyhoo, the following video was shot at the U.S./Canadian border. Enjoy!

Welcome to Canada!

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