Slowly but surely, my days are beginning to develop a pattern. While it was incredibly fun being able to make up each day as it came along, there’s also a comfort in knowing you’ll rarely be at a loss.
I wake up about the same time my husband does. Ok, today I woke up at the same time. Usually I wake up when he gets out of the shower. I’ll help get him off to work–making breakfast, packing a lunch, or making coffee (in exceptionally rare cases, by which I mean, today). Then I hop online and find a couple freelance jobs for which I can apply. I send off resumes, take a couple minutes to browse my favorite sites, then work on the freelance jobs I already have.
Then, I go to my assured job, the newly acquired position at Main Street Deli and Coffeehouse. I try to learn everything I can in the span of 3-4 hours, then I come home, hyped up on coffee and bearing my free lunch. Then I do some housework, make dinner, and wait for the hubby to get home. Steve and I watch an episode of Bones while we eat dinner, then he’ll either go back to school for a while and I’ll read, or he’ll play a game or read and I’ll… read. Or work. Or play on the Internet. Or procrastinate work by playing Solitaire.
Today, I broke the pattern by blogging before working. I am such a rebel.
Yesterday, the sermon was over 1 John 3:11-24, which is subtitled “Love One Another.” To kind of get things started, Ken (the pastor) passed around a basket that contained different questions about love. We each drew one, then shared our reflections. I have to admit I found my eyes glazing over slightly until someone shared the question:
Would you rather be remembered as being right or as being loving?
Ouch! Of course I know what my answer should be. In the grand scheme of things, how important is being proven right, really? But does my life show others that I think being loving is more important? In all honesty… probably not. It’s easy to get on my high horse rather than getting my hands dirty when I see the stupidity of people around me. One of my most-asked questions is, “Why would you do that?” by which I mean, “Why would any sane, right-thinking person do what you just did?” Of course I wouldn’t do something that stupid. I, after all, am right.
Being old-fashioned, I like to look at Jesus for inspiration at moments like this. How is He remembered?
That was kind of a hard one at first, honestly. I mean, He was right. We, His followers, live our entire lives based upon the assumption that He was right. However, everyone–His followers and skeptics alike–remember Him as being loving. Regardless of whether people believe Jesus is the Son of God, they know He died an excruciating death because He believed His sacrifice could save others. Even skeptics remember the man who taught us to love one another, who associated with people that polite society rejected, who healed the poor and fed the hungry.
I have no excuse then. This will be a hard lesson to apply, but it’s one I won’t likely forget.
As a newbie in town, I’ve been doing what has oh-so-lovingly been called “shopping” for a church. Having come from a Nazarene background, the first churches I wanted to check out are the Nazarene churches. Call me a creature of habit, but don’t judge–you probably are too.
This week’s contender was The Bridge Church of the Nazarene. It’s actually a campus ministry that began in April to minister both to the students of Clemson and those of Southern Wesleyan University. The Bridge is a coffeehouse church. It was a lot of fun, although that could be the two cups of rather excellent coffee speaking. There were only six of us, but in their defense, it is (as I’ve said) a student ministry that began in April, the end of the semester.
It reminded me of my Sunday school class with Linda at my home church. The “sermon” was really a discussion. There was a very good message, but he didn’t simply preach it to us–he helped us arrive to the conclusions as a group. It was very good discussion although I felt like I was doing most of the talking. Did I mention I had two cups of coffee?
Best of all, the ministers actually own the coffeehouse. Guess what? They’re looking for help. During the day. Especially during lunch.
HALLELUJAH! I happen to need a job. During the day. While Steve is at school.
I start on Tuesday.
~Tanya, the barrista
War is a messy business. Lives are disrupted, property is ruined, and even people on the winning side suffer wounds, casualties, and inconveniences.
My war began when they crossed into what was clearly, indubitably, my property. They ate my food, they soiled my carpet, and they hurt my pets. At first, my strikes were defensive. When the stupid ants got in my dishcloth and bit me numerous times while I was washing dishes, however, they had to die.
I set out poison traps and cleaned like an obsessive-compulsive woman–even more than usual–so the ants had access to no food but the poison. The next day, there were noticeably fewer ants, and the day after that, I found them only in squishable numbers.
Today, however, there was a resurgence, so I sprayed their favorite counter with ant-icide. Thoroughly. Four hours later, it still glistens. Now, although I am on the winning side, my ant bites still sting, and I am unable to use half of my kitchen.
This inconvenience is incomparably better than ants swarming my kitchen sink. This is my house; enter uninvited at your own peril.