Below is a short clip on the origin of rollerblading. I’m sharing it because I knew you would want to know. (You’re welcome.) As for me, getting out the old skates is nothing like riding a bike. I wiggle, jiggle, and wobble with the best of them. And then I go kersplat. Just before impact there’s usually a squeal of some sort. Followed by a groan.
I’ll take the “living hope” over the “little hope.”
Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! In his great mercy he has given us new birth into a LIVING HOPE through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, and into an inheritance that can never perish, spoil or fade—kept in heaven for you.
Ray Bradbury once said something to the effect that writing isn’t a serious business. Rather, it’s a joy and a celebration, so we should be having fun with it. Well, I think writing can also be a challenge, but if we go with Bradbury’s sentiment, what could be more joyful than writing—and doing it on a keyboard like this?
It was Marilyn McCoo and Billy Davis Jr. who sang that line, “You don’t have to be a star, baby, to be in my show.” It’s a good thing, too, or I’d be up the creek without a microphone. Indeed, I discovered last night that the best way to kill a classic is for me to sing it. But, oh, the “song-icide” can be so much fun.
We’ll be hosting a birthday party for our son this weekend, and the main activity is a karaoke event with his friends. Last night he came over, and we set up the equipment in our family room to test it and make sure it all works. One thing led to another, so for nearly three hours we added song after song to the queue, and we sang ourselves raspy over the course of the night. My selections included:
“Bohemian Rhapsody” (Queen)
“My Heart Will Go On” (Celine Dion)
“Theme from the Brady Bunch” (Sherwood Schwartz)
“Footloose” (Kenny Loggins)
“New York, New York” (Frank Sinatra)
“Y.M.C.A.” (Village People)
“Climb Every Mountain” (The Sound of Music)
“Kiss the Girl” and “Part of Your World” (The Little Mermaid)
“Somewhere in the Night” (Barry Manilow)
“I Will Always Love You” (Whitney Houston)
“Scenes from an Italian Restaurant” (Billy Joel)
And that’s just the tip of the iceburg of all the songs we attempted. Worse than my singing was the misguided attempt (by me) to dance during “Footloose.” All digital evidence of the spectacle has been destroyed. But the funniest moment was injecting Scuttle’s throaty little descant into “Kiss the Girl.” I may have ruptured something laughing at myself.
I didn’t realize how much fun karaoke could be, or how much I needed to blow off a little steam after the crazy schedule I’ve been keeping lately (not to mention the awfulness of the pandemic year). As King Solomon once said, “A cheerful heart is good medicine, but a crushed spirit dries up the bones” (Prov 17:22).
All my life I’ve wanted to be a singer in the worst possible way. I can finally say that I’ve reached my goal.
This weekend I’m participating in the Future Church Summit put on by Fresh Expressions. (I’ve had the privilege of teaching in our doctoral program with a couple of the presenters, so I decided to pop in and see what they have to say.) Last night the conference coordinator prayed that God would speak to us in our dreams. (Yes, I believe that God can and sometimes does speak to us in our dreams.) Feel free to psychoanalyze me if you like, but I dreamed of coffee. Does that count as an answer to prayer?
My daughter got home from work today and couldn’t find her new cat. Just before breaking into full panic mode, she noticed something odd about her Christmas tree. One of its branches was moving.
Mystery solved. Mrs. Mosby went exploring. Happily, she didn’t pull over the whole tree. Nor did she get electrocuted. Can’t you just hear her saying, “How nice of those humans to put this big toy right in the middle of the living room for me”?
It’s nice to smile when the year has been so odd and the holiday so different. To keep things on the lighter side, I pardoned the vegetables this year. Only the turkey and potatoes were executed for the greater good. The broccoli, cauliflower, beets, corn, spinach, and green beans can keep their lives for another year. It’s better that way for everyone. Well, here are some actual fun highlights from the day:
Fun Highlight #1: My grandcat Mrs. Mosby was here. Her mission in life seems to be to convert me from being a dog person to a cat person. Given the demon-possessed Pomeranian I used to own, that shouldn’t be too difficult.
Fun Highlight #2: We chuckled at the Thanksgiving list my son made when he was in third grade. It’s prominently displayed on the family room piano. He listed all his toys and relatives. All the relatives, that is, except his sister. She didn’t make the cut. Come to think of it, first on his list was that demon-possessed Pomeranian referenced above.
Fun Highlight #3: I had a random conversation with my son-in-law about Halloween candy. He wanted to know why I dislike candy corn so much. I said, “Because there’s not enough chocolate in it.” I rest my case.
Fun Highlight #4: My son-in-law rocked Mrs. Mosby to sleep, after which she apparently had a charismatic dream (see below). I’m thinking she’s a Pentecostal.
O.k., time for some real Thanksgiving humor. 🙂 Enjoy!
Table cleared. Kitchen cleaned. Thanks given. O.k., NOW we can decorate and play Christmas music in this house!
Old Testament scholars are hard pressed to find an underlying rationale for the myriad dietary restrictions in the Mosaic law. It’s a good and important question, but not one I’ve thought about too terribly much over the years. I’m just glad the highlighted Hebrew word below is pronounced, “NO KALE.”
Truly, that’s how it’s pronounced, though it has nothing to do with kale. (My apologies if you thought this was a serious post. I’m just having way too much fun today—which is a good thing since the vacation ends tomorrow.)