Man of the house...

Today was a nice day at church in that felt "normal"... no real irritating or stressful events, just the comfort that comes from having predictable circumstances. This Sunday was "Stewardship Sunday", so my choir sang a song called "Where your Treasure Is", with words inspired by parts of Jesus' Sermon on the Mount in Matthew 6. We've song the same song two years in a row now, but I don't think the congregation minds... especially since we've only sung it on "Stewardship Sunday". Funny.

I also went to listen to my old roomie David, visiting from seminary, preach during 3rd service about God's purpose in creating people to minister to others. It was a great message, so I'm glad to hear that formal theological training hasn't ruined his talent for speaking... heh heh. Sadly, there wasn't a great many people there today in 3rd service.

Ever since Pastor Taido moved on to Arkansas and we've been without a dedicated (permanent) youth pastor, I've noticed a significant drop in attendance in 3rd service. I guess that's understandable, considering that there are a couple of other churches in our area that are popular that meet at almost the same time (Cornerstone, Lighthouse, City Church) and cater to a "younger" audience. Ironically, I think many churches in Seattle often "cannibalize" each other... instead of being a place where people new to church can come and check it out, people un-entertained by their current church go.

Did I mention lunch was good? Simple baked soyu chicken fryers, with sides of gai-lan (Chinese broccoli) and bok fan (AKA white rice). I love eating lunch at the church when the grandpas are cooking.

Anyways, on the way home after choir practice, the car got a flat on the rear driver side. It had to be within the last mile or so of our house, because we didn't notice anything weird until then. We made it home fine, but my Mom was pretty miffed having just got these new set of tires from Costco like last month. She wanted to call AAA to change it, but I thought it'd be too much trouble to wait for them to come. So being the dutiful son I am, I went out and changed it myself, which was no big deal. The funny thing I found about the flat tire was the object that had punctured it - not a nail or a piece of glass, but a ROCK. A small, stupid, sharp rock... ha.

Sitting outside by myself changing the tire in front of my house made me nostalgic. I think when my father died, my childhood died with him. Being the only male around the house made me the "man of house" - but unlike other families, the position was devoid of privilege and filled endless responsibilities. Fixing stupid stuff around the house. Mowing and edging both the front and back lawns. Trimming bushes. Pulling weeds. Collecting all the garbage and taking it out. Chopping firewood. Cleaning gutters. Moving furniture. Washing the car.

Maybe that's why I enjoy working with kids so much and caring for them... getting to hear about the funniest cartoons (Spongebob) and the newest games (Yu-Gi-Oh). I get to live vicariously through them and pretend I'm 10 again... maybe so I can forget all the baggage that constantly came from being reminded I was the "man of the house" and therefore had to do blah, blah blah... drudgery really has a way of taking the joy out of a kid. Consequently as an adult, I have an aversion to being responsible for menial tasks I don't considering vital. Hurray hurray.
posted by G at 5:23 PM   |

in?scrip?tion (n-skrip-shun)n.
1. The act or an instance of inscribing.
2. Something, such as the wording on a coin, medal, monument, or seal, that is inscribed.
3. A short, signed message in a book or on a photograph given as a gift.
4. The usually informal dedication of an artistic work.
5. Jeremiah 31:33