Category Archives: a conversation

A Conversation

A Conversation, with myself, on the way to the lunch room

It’s Friday.

It’s the Friday of the Octave of Christmas.

It’s one of, like, three Fridays all year where you don’t have to fast.

This was the one exciting thought I had all through the grocery store last night as I was purchasing eggs and bacon and sausage for a theoretical fried sammich for lunch.

Why, then, did I go directly home from the grocery store and pack myself a vegan lunch?

(Anyone want any hummus? I have a pound of it in my backpack.)

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Discussing “The Golden Compass”

Coworker: I won’t go see that movie, because it’s demeaning to Christians and the Church.

Moi: Shoot, if Jesus can put up with having someone like me in the church, I think he can handle a stupid movie.

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Filed under a conversation, me being myself

A Conversation

A friend of ours said, “Have you ever considered the ordination process?”

I almost spit coffee across the table. “Are you kidding? ME?!? I spent the weekend reading comic books and comparing Jayne Cobb to St. Martin de Tours!”

Our priest-friend said, “You can preach in my church anytime.”

I glared. “I would totally take up smoking again just so I can lean in the pulpit, cig dangling out of the corner of my mouth. ‘You know that part where it says, “Love your neighbor?” Well, God wasn’t fucking kidding! Yes, I’m looking at you, Mrs. Beezworth!’ ” I gestured sharply with my imaginary cigarette.

The friend of ours giggled nervously. Our priest-friend said, “You TOTALLY can preach in my church any time.”

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Filed under a conversation, my life

1 Corinthians 12:4-11

Moi: You causing trouble?
Church!Friend: Sure am, just like you are.
Moi: *innocent face*
Church!Friend: Oh, please! Besides, that’s why they keep us around.
Moi: Like the priest said, some are called to preaching and teaching, and some are called to be needing the preaching and teaching.

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Filed under a conversation, me being myself

A Conversation

Me: People are really starting to annoy me.

Culturally Buddhist Coworker: Wha’d [Enduser] do now?

Me: No, this is about my trip. People are getting their knickers in a twist.

CBC: You’re going with your church, right?

Me: Kind of. I mean, it involves my church on the national level, and so many people are cranky about it that they’re starting to harsh my mellow, man.

CBC: Why?

Me: Because the leader we elected is a woman, oh noes! Flee! The sky is falling!

CBC: Pfft. They need to get a life.

Me: Seriously. I’m all, “Ok, so I’ve got to pack, arrange transport to and from the airport, figure out what I’m going to wear to the party, finish up my price hold reports, brief my backup on current situations in my queue, and wonder if I’m going to have a phobia-induced panic attack somewhere over the Midwest. I don’t have time to worry about piddly crap like whether or not my presiding bishop’s gender offends some yabo’s delicate nature.”

CBC: That’s right, you tell them.

Me: I’m going to have a good time on this trip, or else. And anyone who gets between me and a good time is going the the right way for a smacked bottom. In Christian charity, of course.

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A (Fictional?) Conversation With God

Got a pen and paper handy? This is going to be a long list.

Go for it.

Okay. I want to get rid of Mondays, first thing. I want to get rid of the cottony feeling in my brain that takes half of Monday to shake off, and everyone wondering why their overnight package hasn’t gotten here yet, even though they had me order it at 4pm on Friday. Got that?

Keep going.

I want more space in my life for myself. I want more time to pray. I want more of my spaces to be sacred, to draw me to You. I want my food to be healthy and organic, so I can help conserve the Earth. And I want companies to be sensitive to the Earth, too!

Is that it?

Heck no! I want my money to be used wisely, when I go to the store or the movies. I want it to be used wisely by my parish and other charitable organizations. I want it to be used wisely by the Government, to help people. I want to help people, too, I want to have more time to volunteer. I want to watch less TV and I want to write more and I want chocolate. Lots of chocolate.

Okay.

I think that’s it.

You sure?

Well, yeah. Oh! Actually, can You add one last thing?

Yeah.

I also want a million dollars, world peace, and a puppy.

Okay. *tears list out of notebook* Better go get started, then. This is a long list.

I thought You were going to take care of it?

Well, of course, I’ll help, but most of these are things you’ve gotta do yourself.

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Here, fishy fishy fishy…

Just imagine me at about six years old, lower lip sticking out so far I’m about to trip on it, eyes narrowed, arms folded across my chest.

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I am NOT going to do it.
No, I don’t wanna!
You’re not the Boss of me.

That’s right, I’m arguing with God. Again. Actually, it’s the same old argument, but this time He’s quite insistent, and isn’t taking “don’wanna!” for an answer.

And it’s for no good reason other than plain ol’ fear. Fear of the unknown, fear of change, fear that I really did waste the last five years of my life doing ‘the wrong thing’. Fear that this is going to change how people think about me. Fear I won’t do it right. Fear that I’m not the right person, that I might have gotten the message wrong.

Fear of what my mother is going to say. Oy.

I live in a city bisected by two major rivers. I keep looking over the bridges when I cross them, keeping an eye out for whales.

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Filed under a conversation, me being myself