Of course it wouldn’t be a proper Sunday dinner without dessert! Leftover strawberries, coffee cake, chocolate and vanilla pudding were the perfect ingredients for this impromptu strawberry trifle, topped with a little sprinkle of granola and whipped cream.
After an unusually early service at Hillsdale OPC–our service is normally at 6pm, but today’s was 10am, assumedly in honor of Parents’ Weekend–Vivian and I prepared a Sunday supper of Italian Wedding soup alongside toasted pita topped with parmesan and fresh buschetta. We both (separately) noticed the recipe in the Sunday paper earlier this morning–it was a fast and easy choice for a meal.
TUESDAY
4 March 2008
Communication is one of the most frustrating things in life.
We are constantly speaking, writing, chatting, whining, blabbing about all sorts of things–but how much of it are we really understanding? If it is difficult to understand even the inner workings of our own minds, how can we expect another completely separate soul to comprehend anything the same way we do?
When it comes to divine revelation, it is truly an act of God that the individual Christian is given the enlightenment to understand even the smallest amount of the Gospel. But when we turn to each other to express these wonderful things of which we seem to hold a tentative grasp, so much is lost in translation (as the saying goes). It is the same with any other arena: How can I express to you how amazing a piece of art, or a book is? Why don’t you understand why this experience is so important to me? I do not direct these questions to any one in particular, they are simply rhetorical, but I find myself asking them more often.
I think it must be an inevitable consequence of our innate sinfulness that not only can our understanding of God be skewed by the inappropriate translations that we conduct in our own heads, but also may our conversation amongst each other be thrown off by the “babel” which pervades our interactions.
It is certainly something to consider in your next one-on-one conversation.
MONDAY
3 March 2008
It is weekends like this past one that help me to appreciate the spontaneity and uncertainty of so many things in life. Or rather, it has made me appreciate more the stable and familiar things.
A mandatory sorority event kept me in Hillsdale Friday night through about 10 o’clock Saturday morning. It was an event in which I wanted to participate–never mind the fact that it was mandatory–but I had planned on departing Hillsdale by 9:30 Saturday morning in order to attend a wedding in Chicago. Nonetheless, heading out the door after a quick shower and change, I felt as though hitting the road a half hour late would not deter my timely arrival. I was wrong.
I slipped my borrowed key into the ignition of a borrowed car (many thanks to the lender!) the engine turned…but momentarily sputtered back into silence. This was a new sound for me, as I have had the grace to experience the minimum of automotive woes. And woeful it was: the car was out of gas. Completely.
There was much wringing of hands and gnashing of teeth, but thanks to the help of a God-sent Kappa sister a gas cannister was soon acquired. My troubles, however, were not at their end. We twisted, turned, squeezed, pressed, popped, flicked, threw….the cap would not budge. There we stood, amidst snow, ice and parked cars, an unopened (and therefore useless) gas cannister in hand. In my frustration, I found and wielded a knife against the stubborn cap. After several minutes of prying and slicing plastic, the cannister released its captive…–salvation! A gallon of gas in tow, the car now started and took me straight to the nearest gas station. But getting out of Hillsdale is never that easy.
Not five minutes after departing the gas station, I hit traffic…in Hillsdale. Unheard of? Not quite. A multi-car accident in front of the infamous Walmart had blocked the entire road, and a long line of angry red tail lights stood between me and my destination. Are you trying to tell me something, God? I asked aloud. Maybe He was, but perhaps not what I thought. Within a few seconds, I was being waved ahead by a fireman and once again set on track for the wedding.
Needless to say, I arrived at the wedding with time to spare and a welcome lack of greater obstacles. The trip a success, the wedding and reception a joyous celebration, and the return to Hillsdale without a single hassle ended the weekend much smoother than it began.
Dare I ask what the plan is for next weekend…? Even if I think I know, there’s really no telling. 🙂
