"The epiphany that laughter was light, and light was laughter."
Last Sunday I visited St. Mark’s. Everyone was so welcoming and kind. I went to Catholic school when I was young (although, we’re not Catholic and I wasn’t raised in any church), and I’m somewhat familiar, albeit a bit rusty, with the movements and the cadences of liturgical services. I was surprised how familiar and right it felt. I love the physicality of the worship, and I appreciate the symbols and reverence. When I was young, it was engrained and habit, but now, I seek out the meaning behind the deliberate, tangible movements. I never knew how much I’d missed the pew. When I hesitated, someone was near to offer guidance by example, and Father Jesse smiled encouragingly when my hand sloppily dipped into the font. I’m a little clumsy from lack of practice but eager. The church is beautiful and smells woody and warm, and the bell was ringing when we walked in last week. I’ve been talking to Jesse through email, and my baptism is scheduled for the Saturday night before Easter. I am thankful for a dear friend at the church who sponsored me.
I’m reading The Goldfinch by Donna Tartt. It was recommended on everyone’s best books of 2013 list so I checked it out from the library. It’s wonderful. I haven’t finished it, but I definitely recommend it. I’m nearing the end, and I’m frantic to find out how she’ll wrap it up. I wish you could call in to work with a, “Sorry, I’m at a really great part in this book, and I have to stay home today to finish it.” The story is great. It’s held my interest from the first page, and since it’s 700 someodd pages, that’s saying something. It is a bit melancholy, and I crawled into a mood when I first started it, but that subsided. I’m definitely enjoying it. I like it enough that I may pick up a copy for my personal library.
Everyone asks the “how’s married life,” question now, and I don’t know how to communicate how wonderful it is so I just shrug and respond, “Not all that different.” It’s not really different in day to day ways, just growing deeper. I’m curating bits and bobs of his personality, his tendencies that I appreciate and am amused by, in my mind. I’ve always done this, but the luxury of being able to do it on a daily basis makes me extremely happy. He has a passion for drinking neon orange soda that tastes like Tic-Tacs, likens getting mail every day to Christmas, and would like to light our entire home with cheap LED lighting from Dollar Tree. He wants to like horehound candy but feels it’s a sort of bad version of root beer. The mention of horseradish makes him shudder and yell out “GROSS” emphatically. He seemingly only owns books on Arkansas History or about the lives of comedians. Sometimes, I feel terrified every time he leaves the house alone. My own neuroses, I know, but wow. How risky and special it is to love someone.
I’m reading The Goldfinch by Donna Tartt. It was recommended on everyone’s best books of 2013 list so I checked it out from the library. It’s wonderful. I haven’t finished it, but I definitely recommend it. I’m nearing the end, and I’m frantic to find out how she’ll wrap it up. I wish you could call in to work with a, “Sorry, I’m at a really great part in this book, and I have to stay home today to finish it.” The story is great. It’s held my interest from the first page, and since it’s 700 someodd pages, that’s saying something. It is a bit melancholy, and I crawled into a mood when I first started it, but that subsided. I’m definitely enjoying it. I like it enough that I may pick up a copy for my personal library.
Everyone asks the “how’s married life,” question now, and I don’t know how to communicate how wonderful it is so I just shrug and respond, “Not all that different.” It’s not really different in day to day ways, just growing deeper. I’m curating bits and bobs of his personality, his tendencies that I appreciate and am amused by, in my mind. I’ve always done this, but the luxury of being able to do it on a daily basis makes me extremely happy. He has a passion for drinking neon orange soda that tastes like Tic-Tacs, likens getting mail every day to Christmas, and would like to light our entire home with cheap LED lighting from Dollar Tree. He wants to like horehound candy but feels it’s a sort of bad version of root beer. The mention of horseradish makes him shudder and yell out “GROSS” emphatically. He seemingly only owns books on Arkansas History or about the lives of comedians. Sometimes, I feel terrified every time he leaves the house alone. My own neuroses, I know, but wow. How risky and special it is to love someone.