elementary

thought one:

parent/child reconnection after an 8 hour separation is very interesting to a mentally unoccupied teacher's aide on duty.

(me.)

some start grinning the moment their eyes find their DNA carrier-on-er.

some kids run to their parents, an eerily similar smile on their faces.

sometimes they start talking the moment they see each other. on occasion, the mom will KISS the creature. and the kid still smiles, even if the public sees. (it's still elementary.)

but sometimes, the mom's got an ear a little too busy to care about Dr. Seuss or whatever the child ate at lunch today. sometimes that cellular is so demanding that she can't even acknowledge the kids presence. well, she will unlock the door, usually.

(do i judge?!)

some parents have the leisure to come inside to walk the child out.

some pairs walk hand in hand. some parents walk a pace ahead. (it's hard to converse with somebody a pace behind you. but kids do walk so slowly...)

reminds me of going to the mall or walmart. when was the last time you saw a teenager walking in a public place arm-in-arm with (or within a meter of) his parent? in this country, i mean.

i'm the opposite of prophetic, but i hang around prophetic people, and here's what i see: the parents who can't put their phone down long enough to welcome their child into their car have tough luck ahead. [ha... "luck" my foot...]

people think teenagers are uncommunicative.

"i ask him how he's doing and all i get is 'fine.' " of couse, maybe she has asked him that ever since elementary school, and his reticence is new. but maybe it's her listening to his answer that's new...

"The precious sons of Zion,
Valuable as fine gold,
How they are regarded as clay pots,
The work of the hand of the potter!" (Lamentations 4:2)

let the one who has brought her children through adulthood unscathed throw the first stone...

i'll hush. (on that.)

thought two: of unairbrushed humanity and Facebook. a rant and a ramble.

the good life is not necessarily that one that looks great at a distance. (say, on facebook, for example, that entity ever so distant from... tangy, earthy, beautiful, priceless, SIMPLE reality)

your most actualized self might not be all that tantalyzing on a profile page. (but it's real and you're content, so let facebook be... banned.)

all the best people may not be the prettiest. (don't tell.) they might not even be the quickest, most gracious, or even relatively respectable folks.

sometimes the most beneficial life to live and people to know are those that would embarrass you most if you started running for national office, added them as your trademarkFacebook Friends or brought them home to dinner. (i guess you can' t bring your life home to dinner, so excuse that grammatical mess.)

'cause we need incorrigible people. gnarly, recalcitrant souls that they be. we need the slow. we need others to mess up. we need the unpretty!

we need the suffering.

we need the vulnerability of having an unimpressive life.

it makes us appreciate flavor and reality over preservatives and psedolife. well, flavor and reality and God.

what wondrous love is this, O my soul, O my soul, what wondrous love is this... when i'm pitiful online and off, when my friends are only slightly better [ha! no offense. i'm talking about my other friends], when my best self needs a couple thousand meters for preservation...

let me condense my rambling.

1) who God made us funny funny people to be may not impress others. but we'll be happy and so will He when we walk therein anyways.

2) we need unsightly folks to remind us of true value and also, quite honestly, to console us in our own periodic piteousness.

3) we need reality. the more the better. the more God is found in each snapshot, the best.

thought three:

~ "...sometimes the drunks would shoot their women..."

i had wondered before if there were thoughts you can't [wouldn't] think in another language. i'm beginning to lend more credence to that theory. if i heard that in English, my sensitive heart woulda just gone pompompom...

...but since it was in Spanish, i just said, "Aw, que horrible. Now, pay attention. 'Howw arrr yuuuu.' "

que me pasa!? but seriously, Spanish-speakers say some weird things, and only in retrospect do i get it...


~ "my uncle, his teacher called him at the hospital..."
"his teacher? how old is he?"
"14 or 15."


~ "and when i was a little baby, my mom called to my dad to bring my clothes and then there was this shadow that looked like a priest but then when she turned on the light it went away..."

~ "once upon a land, or whatever they say, there was this woman that drowned her kids..."

~ "and then, you know, my mom's friend, she's an exorcista..."