It is kind of scrapey on your tongue. It is hard. It is hard to lick. It is round. In a ball. What is in it? It has a lot of sugar. You [c]an spin it. You can lick with two sides. It has a lot of juice in it also.
Scott: Does Mama drive like a pinball? Sullivan: Yeah, Mama drive data pinball into the back of Bam-Bam’s car yesterday! Scott: Well, it wasn’t yesterday, but good job; you got the right half of eternity, at least.
I write this to as a Christian to Christians in hopes of introducing a meme that’ll benefit the next generation of Christians: I’d like to float out there that evangelical Christian culture idolizes marriage such that some would-be avid do-gooders choose to get married and start a family without knowing the consequences it’ll have on their capacity for extra-familial ministry. Check out Paul on the subject:
One who is unmarried is concerned about the things of the Lord, how he may please the Lord; but one who is married is concerned about the things of the world, how he may please his wife, and his interested are divided (1 Corinthians 7:32-34).
My experience so far as a family man bears this out: I am less at liberty, time-wise and energy-wise, to minister to others because I must also minister to my wife and children.
Is that a bad thing? Of course not. I delight in giving myself to my family. I wouldn’t have gotten married and had kids if I didn’t. But I didn’t realize the extent to...
Too often in the face of apparently opposing viewpoints we take the easy way and simply separate from the other person, or at least cordon off certain subjects as being taboo when talking with him or her. But check out what Paul has to say on the subject:
Now I exhort you, brethren, by the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, that you all agree and that there be no divisions among you, but that you be made complete in the same mind and in the same judgment (1 Corinthians 1:10; see also Philippians 2:2).
Doctrinal, practical, political differences be damned: We’re supposed to at least try to agree, and the only way to do that is to humbly converse about our differences. I find that when we give ear to the fellow with the apparently contradictory opinion—and that both parties respect one another and are willing to confess that they don’t know everything—everybody wins: Your opinions and thoughts are sharpened and/or changed for the better, and your hearts are drawn closer to the other person’s heart.
Carla: Sully, what do you want to be when you grow up? Sullivan: A man.
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In my head and in my wife’s head all day (in neverending half-step-up modulations): “Rebel Rouser” by Duane Eddy. As an aside, songs built on guitar riffs like this one lend themselves to husbands and wives having a capella fun. Take bass drum, snare drum, lead guitar, and saxophone, and split them between the two of you. Fun for all.
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I watched this, the 39th greatest film of all time according to Entertainment Weekly, while at the Shore with a bunch of good friends. It’s got a contrived, fluffy plot, but some cheeky writing, pitch-perfect acting from the two leads, and captivating dancing—ah, the dancing!—lift it to being dazzlingly wonderful.
Carla: How do you always know what I’m going to say? Am I predictable? Scott: No, you’re my wife. You’re only predictable to me. To everyone else, you’re a complete mystery.
Scott: Wow, so we’ve started our seventh year married. Carla: Uh oh. We’re gonna get the seven-year itch! Scott: Not me. I’m not itchy. Carla: Ya, I’m starting to kinda get attracted to you, actually.
We just got back from our summer ultimate league finals and picnic. While enjoying our hoagies amongst our fellow ultimate lovers, I notice Sully is yelling something at the top of his lungs…on loop. I ask him if he wants a bite of sandwich (hoping to stuff his mouth) and he comes up to me, hands me a crumpled piece of grass and walks away saying casually, “There’s a four-leaf clover, Mama.” I look at the piece of grass, and sure enough, it was a clover. I look further and one, two, three, four. It was a four-leafed clover. Suspecting someone may have given it to him, I ask as he’s walking back down the hill, “Where did you get this?” He replies unexcitedly pointing around at the ground, “ummm…. riiiiight…. there” and walks away munching his sandwich.
After sharing his discovery with Scott and our nearest conversation partners, one of them realizes that what Sully was chanting earlier was, “Found it, found it, found it.” Ah, the faith of a child.
Scott put on one of our favorite classical pieces, The Lark Ascending, this evening. I introduced Éa to it by telling her, “This is The Lark Ascending by, um…Van Williams I think?”
Then, without a hesitation, I asked Sully, who was diligently working on a puzzle on the floor, “Sully, who wrote this piece? It’s The Lark Ascending by ____…”?
He took a moment, still concentrating on his oversized puzzle, and then replied in his classic matter-of-fact manner, “Hmmm…Boathoven.”