Numerous times this week I have found myself thinking "Oh, I should post that..." Posting, however, or even catching up with the internet, has not made it from the "want to do" list to the "have to do" list (about half of which has not been done, either.) Here, though, are the things I have thought of posting, in chronological order:
Tuesday: A pound of butter fell out of my freezer and landed on my foot. As to why that amused me enough to want to tell everybody, however, I have no idea.
Thursday: My inner child and I are in close touch. I can tell, because this, which I found in the Old Testament Pseudepigrapha*, makes me snicker:
"25 [Ben Bag-Bag said: Turn it, and turn it again, for the whole is in it, and the whole of thee is in it; and from it swerve not, for there is to thee no greater good than it.]
26 [Ben He-He said: According to the toil is the pay.]"
Pseudepigrapha of the Old Testament. 2004 (R. H. Charles, Ed.) (2:710). Logos Research Systems, Inc.
* pseud•epig•ra•phon noun plural pseud•epig•ra•pha 2. any of various pseudonymous or anonymous Jewish religious writings of the period 200 b.c. to 200 a.d.; especially : one of such writings (as the Psalms of Solomon) not included in any canon of biblical Scripture — usually used in plural
Merriam-Webster, I. (1996, c1993). Merriam-Webster's collegiate dictionary. Includes index. (10th ed.). Springfield, Mass., U.S.A.: Merriam-Webster.
Friday: Spent an hour in silent prayer at one of the most beautiful old churches in town. The importance of beauty in church design is a topic for another post; about this evening, however, I will simply say that on my knees before Christ I felt more strongly than I have in three years like I stood on solid rock in my faith. Feeling (by itself), of course, while it guarantees neither reality nor future perseverance, does matter and does help. God forbid that I underrate the power of a sense of confidence in Him when, since the close of 2003, faith has too often been a matter of desperate and almost hopeless clinging. Friday night I felt like that lackluster determination had finally been reinforced by the brilliancy of sincere and unclouded hope and trust. All I can say is Thank God.
Saturday: Beth and I watched Stranger than Fiction, and I couldn't tell you how long it's been since I saw a new romantic comedy that good. Maybe not since Return to Me. Be forewarned, ye who would watch: there's about thirty seconds of time dedicated to achieving its PG-13 rating. Get past that and you've got a great story: artistically and mentally interesting, hilarious, and poignant--I don't often catch myself caring so deeply about what happens to a character. You'll love Harold Crick too; you don't have to be a Will Ferrell fan to do so.
Sunday: Celebrated the birthday, though a few days late, of one of the greatest and humblest men on earth; a man who has lived and worked quietly, selflessly, faithfully for God and his family through the course of many years; a pastor at heart, a fireman and EMT, a wealth of skill towards house and home, body and soul--my father. Happy Birthday, Dad.