First page of the Ginger archive.

merry christmas:truly he taught us to love one another

Posted by jessica on Dec 25, 2009 with 8 Comments
in I Lift My Eyes Up
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Faith would be a lot easier if it didn’t call for believing in things so doggone invisible, I thought as I got up to grab one of the ginger snaps I had just baked.

And yes, I thought the word doggone.

And yes, I just baked ginger snaps. Turned out well, too. Not that I’m bragging; you all saw what happened last time I baked cookies. Just saying that people get better at things, I guess.

But invisible. I am not just talking about a baby a long time ago that was born of a virgin. I am not even just talking about a resurrection that took place years later.

I guess what I am talking about is this line from one of my favorite carols that especially haunts me every time I hear it this year.

Truly he taught us to love one another

Now I realize there are a lot more words to the song. Those old carols seem to be very good at packing words into a measure, if nothing else. And most of the time there is actually a lot else. But that phrase up above, that’s enough. Enough because it’s so big, so daunting, so invisible.

And sometimes so hard.

But the word taught, well that’s something. It implies that just maybe we weren’t very good at it at one point. And maybe that’s okay. Not to stay there, but to start there.

I mean, sure, we’re good at loving those who love us. I’m especially great at loving the people who make me feel good about myself. And don’t even get me started on how easy it is to love the people who make me laugh. But loving everybody?

I think I need to be taught.

A little every day, please.

Because sometimes that love is so invisible.

But truly he teaches us to love one another.

In every situation.

Especially the ones in which love becomes invisible.

Here’s to that love. Here’s to Christmas. Here’s to God being willing to teach us to love one another. And how that changes everything. But everything is so nonspecific. So large, when I feel very very small. So then let’s narrow it down:

Here’s to God teaching me to love and here’s to that changing me.

That’s better.

a three hour tour

Posted by jessica on Nov 1, 2009 with No Comments
in Funny Stuff, Performance, photography
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So we had to wade through two whole shows today in order to put on the costumes that we had really been anticipating.

For me, it was Marianne of Gilligan’s Island fame.
And Marianne wouldn’t exactly be Marianne without the whole crew, now would she? But we decided to go with a twist, it being the holiday that is and all.
So we were Gilligan’s Island, dead.
Like, we never made it off the island and here’s how the story ended.
And here we are:
  • Gilligan (tragically drowned, trying to swim his way off that island).
  • Marianne (eventually succumbed to starvation; I guess the professor used the last coconut to fashion one of his famous radios that unbelievably worked but couldn’t actually aid them in getting off the island).
  • Ginger, the movie star (substance abuse, folks.).
  • Mr. Howell (…eaten by a zombie and then became a zombie…and yikes).
  • Mrs. Howell (eaten alive by spiders).
  • The Professor (blown up by one of his own science experiments gone awry).
  • Skipper (not shown because we ate him–and this was before Marianne starved to death, of course).

Now don’t you feel so sorry for us? Poor Mrs. Howell was beside herself all evening and could only manage to murmur over and over again, Beware of three hour tours…!

And I would have to concur.
But being dead didn’t get us down too much.
I mean, we were still a pretty lively bunch.
And managed to have a great time.
Even if we waited an hour in the cold for a cab that never did show up and finally just hopped into the car of a total stranger who offered to drive us home for a fee of $15. We were so tired and freezing by that point that he probably could have offered us a ride home by way of a three hour tour and we still would have hopped in without a moment’s hesitation.
Desperate times call for desperate measures, right?
Oh, and in case you wondered, that skirt will promptly be going to one of my nieces because yes, I realize it is far too tiny to wear again. Once was enough, thank you.