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Octubre 26, 2007
Good News!
every week we visit the kids whose parents are forced to use a local motel (named after a steak house: the black angus) for transitional housing.
And because we don't want to call it something boring like "motel ministry" we call it "Good News!" (exclamation mark mandatory).
And every week i love it (exclamation mark optional).
There is this one kid who can't be more than 6 years old and I swear he is God's little brother. But none of us can say his name right because we can't get past his speach impediment, so we don't really know what is going on...
We carved pumpkins last week and they had what some people would call "a wonderful time".
Pastor Hoffman said, "how did you show them Jesus?" or some other question that sounded like that but also more like something he would actually say.
And I told him that we just did what we thought would be fun. We just showed up and tried (granted, it wasn't very hard trying) to have a good time.
And I know Jesus was there, damn it. But I didn't say it just like that. And PHoff was pleased. I could tell by the look on his face. It was sort of this smiley, wiley, quiet wondering exactly how we all got on staff.
Martin started calling him that, PHoff, and I thought for sure he would put a gentle stop to that but instead he let me borrow a book called Don't Make Me Stop Now (underlining of title will have to remain implied). And before he let me run off with it he borrowed my orange highlighter (seminarian style) and wrote "PHoff" really big on the title page.
after he just read me this: "He looked at her hair streaming out of the window and congratulated himself on learning to love not who she was when he first met her but the woman she had become to him as he navigated all sorts of treacherous currrents in his own psyche, and he had told anyone who would listen to him that this was what real love was, a frequent and vigilant guaging of your own reality, constant calibrations to include your lover in th eworld that would surely overwhelm you if you let it remain yours alone."
In other news,
we bought a house and it is a fine little house. The original owners, who only recently moved out, hung little rocks from the limbs of a small tree in the backyard. They are like Christmas tree decorations, only different. Most of all, it has a white picket fence, just a little bit of one, along the neighbors' driveway. I think I will just leave it alone until one day it falls over onto our neighbors' car and that will be that, I suppose.
Posted by crymytinyflood at 08:34 AM | Comments (2) | TrackBack